Dead Rising: Case Greene
by Metal Harbinger
Summary: A "what if?" scenario similar to "Off the Record" where Chuck Greene and his daughter Katey are passing through Willamette, Colorado on their way to a mountain retreat when a zombie outbreak occurs. Rating may change based upon story events. ***DISCONTINUED: Rebooted as "Off the Record: Dead Rising"***
1. The Beginning of Heartache

Dead Rising: Case Greene  
>by Metal Harbinger<p>

Author's Note: Hello to all of you, I am Metal Harbinger and this will mark my first serious attempt at a "Dead Rising" fic! I have played both DR1 and DR2, but have not yet played "Off the Record," but have been seriously contemplating it for a while now.

This fic is going to be my answer to "Off the Record," which features Frank West in the Fortune City environment. In this case it's going to be me asking the question "What if it was Chuck Greene in Willamette?"

Well as always I greatly appreciate your feedback so don't be afraid to drop a review or just drop a line and say hello and offer helpful suggestions if you wish!

Now on with the story!

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Heartache

Chuck Greene exhaled deeply as he took in the natural beauty around him, slowing the jeep to a gradual halt as a herd of deer bounded across the mountain highway, giving him an excuse to admire the splendor.

The sight of the late morning sun shining proudly over the ancient mountains, evergreen forests and crystalline streams, the birdsongs filling the air, the natural aroma of mint and pine, it all had such a tranquilizing effect upon him, reminding him of the camping trips he and his father would go on when he was little.

_"Pam loved the outdoors too," _he thought to himself, feeling the fresh tear creeping from the corner of his right eye.

A cacophony of electronic zaps and beeps came from next to him, followed by some cheesy superhero theme.

"Daddy look! I just reached the next level! Now Mega Man can use the Fire Storm attack!" Eight year old Katey Greene triumphantly exclaimed raising her Joy Boy 2000 so her father could see the screen.

The former motocross champion could feel himself choking back a sob as he felt his beloved daughter's blue eyes upon him and took a deep breath to calm himself, "Yeah, I see that! That's terrific! I'm so proud of you," he blurted out, wanting to do whatever he could to prevent his daughter from making further inquiries.

He was thankful he was wearing shades so she couldn't see the tear he was forced to blink away. There was no way he could allow himself to break down in front of her after everything that had been going on recently.

_"You need to stay strong," _he had told himself over and over again, _"If you can't do it for Pam, do it for your daughter. She needs a father now more than ever," _he reminded himself.

"Daddy, why are we stopping?" Katey asked as a semi-truck rounded the winding trail from the opposite lane.

"What?" Chuck blurted out, jumping as a horn honked behind him and he looked into the rearview mirror to see an auburn-haired woman in a station wagon, a child of her own in the passenger seat.

"Oh, oh yeah!" he said stepping on the gas and rounding the trail.

Chuck made his way down the mountain highway in silence, the only sounds filling the car being from Katey's gaming device. He didn't like listening to the radio in such a pristine environment, feeling like it would ruin the happy mood he was trying to create for him and his daughter.

He drove for a few more miles until he was able to spot a town in the distance, a nearby sign telling him the next exit would take him to 'Willamette.'

_"Continue northbound for another quarter mile, then take Exit 28-S and continue following," _the electronic female voice called out from his G.P.S., telling him he would be passing through the community.

He looked down to his gas meter and saw he would be due for a refill, so a stop would be necessary.

XXXXX

According to the sign greeting him on his way in, Willamette, Colorado was a town of 53,594 people, yet it had a surprisingly laid back mountain atmosphere to it.

Chuck drove down Sycamore St. where several residents could be seen going about their daily routines, all looking pretty normal until he looked over to his right onto Forest Ave., where several police cars surrounded the site of an auto wreck and paramedics could be seen loading a covered figure into the back of an ambulance.

The former motocross champ looked down to Katey, who was still thankfully engrossed in her handheld game, before happening across the Tornado Gas Station and pulling up to one of the pumps.

"Alright, you just stay in here," Chuck said to his daughter, switching the jeep off and pulling out his credit card to swipe through the card reader. When an electronic beep followed, he reached for the pump and pulled back the flap to open his gas tank and slipped the pump in, punching in what kind of gas he wanted and clicking it into place.

He looked around while waiting patiently for his tank to fill up and looked across to see a sleek red convertible that almost made the ex-racer drool.

The car's owner stood next to it pumping gas, a man of Latin descent who looked to be around his age with black hair that fell to the bottom of his neck, an expensive-looking white dress shirt with wasp-like designs on it, black slacks and matching loafers. The top buttons of his shirt were open to reveal the medallion he wore underneath.

Whoever this man was, he stood out like a sore thumb in a small town like Willamette, looking as if he belonged in some palatial tropical estate, relaxing by the pool with a martini in hand and two women at each side tending to his most basic needs.

"Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom," Katey called out, distracting him from his current train of thought.

"Okay sweetie, just a sec," Chuck replied as he waited for the pump to click, signaling that his tank was full and slid it back into place, waiting for his receipt to print out. "Okay, c'mon."

He waited for his daughter to unsnap her seatbelt and followed her inside, watching as she disappeared into the ladies' room.

The smell of freshly-cooked pizza wafted into his nostrils and he looked over to a nearby heating case. Knowing the noon hour was approaching and feeling his stomach rumble on cue, Chuck decided he would get some snacks for the trip ahead of them and walked over to lift the lid, pulling out a cheese and sausage pizza for himself and then a pepperoni and sausage one for Katey, her favorite, and then making his way over to a nearby rack to grab some snacks for her and then over to a nearby cooler to grab two bottled sodas, one a Highland Mist and the other a Diet Fizzy Cola.

He waited for Katey to make her way out of the restroom and then made his way over to the cashier to pay for his food.

"Ooh Daddy, look!" the 8 year old suddenly called out.

"What is it-" Chuck asked looking away from cashier, only to gasp audibly and have his blue eyes nearly bulge out of his sockets from behind his shades.

Taped to the nearby window was a flier prominently displaying the grinning visage of a red-haired circus clown with two large chainsaws in hand. The big bold text underneath read _"PERFORMING LIVE AT THE WILLAMETTE PARKVIEW MALL ON SAT. JUNE 18, 2011, BEBOP THE CLOWN!"_

"That's today Daddy, can I go? Pretty please!" the child pleaded tugging away at his racing jacket's sleeve.

Chuck swallowed hard.

He had always been scared of clowns, ever since he had gotten lost in that carnival fun house when he was around Katey's age and had all of those clowns leaping out at him from every direction. It was a horrific incident that had given him nightmares for weeks and even today when he saw one he would still find himself getting anxious.

"Please Daddy? I promise I'll behave if you let me!" Katey shouted.

Chuck removed his shades and looked down into his daughter's blue eyes, their hue matching those of his own. The beautiful sight of her pleading eyes opened a new conflict within his mind.

Sure he was scared of clowns, yet at the same time a more logical part of his mind reminded him that she would need some form of distraction following what had happened to her mother. He could definitely use the opportunity to walk around and explore some of the mall's shops too, having been on the road for nearly three hours straight.

"We've got all day to get up to Mt. Buckingham," he said taking his daughter by the hand, "I guess we could take a little detour for a while," he finished, not sounding too sure of himself, only motivated to do so for the sake of his daughter.

"Oh, thank you Daddy! Thank you so much!" Katey Greene triumphantly whooped squeezing him tightly around his waist. "You're the bestest Dad in the entire world!"

"Anything for you sweetie," he said ruffling her hair as they made their way outside.

Little did the unsuspecting Chuck Greene know, it would be a fateful decision that would alter his life forever.

XXXXX

Author's Note: And so concludes the first chapter of my first attempt at a Dead Rising fic!

This is another idea I've had floating around in my head for quite a while that I've been meaning to get some usage out of and now it feels good to finally get it up and going.

Obviously because this is intended to be a "what if?" alternate universe type fic, there will be slight diversions from the original story, but I will try to remain faithful to the "3 day window" seen in the original.

The chapter's title "The Beginning of Heartache" is meant to be an opposite word play on the Killswitch Engage song title "The End of Heartache."

Well I hope you all enjoyed so until then please read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	2. And Hell Followed With Him

Author's Note: Damn, it's been almost 2 years since I've updated this fic!

For those of you who enjoyed the first chapter I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but I just really fell onto the back burner with this story and last night a whole slew of ideas started pouring into my head.

Sadly, I don't know if this will just be a short-term thing, but I'll try to make the most out of what I can get.

XXXXX

Chapter 2: And Hell Followed With Him

For 8 year old Katey Greene, stepping into the Wonderland Plaza was like stepping into Heaven.

Her mouth fell open in silent awe as she took in the indoor amusement park before her, the Space Rider zooming through the air above her, the giant inflatable rabbits swaying back and forth, the toy houses with all sorts of children her age running around…it was all so absolutely breathtaking for her.

"Daddy, can I go on the Space Rider before Bebop comes on?" she cried out excitedly in spite of the long line in front of it.

Chuck looked down to his digital watch to see that it was 1:25 in the afternoon. "Uh, I think that clown should be coming on at any minute now."

As if someone had heard him a voice called out over the loudspeakers.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages!" _a bombastic voice barked, _"Bebop the Clown will be performing in exactly five minutes! Five minutes kiddies and grownups! Get yourselves over to the play land if you wish to get yourselves a front row seat for all the fun and excitement that is about to take place right here in Wonderland!" _the unseen announcer said shouting out the plaza's name before the country western type 'muzak' resumed.

"Hurry Daddy! He's gonna start any minute now!" Katey excitedly shouted grabbing her father by the wrist and dragging him towards the play land made up of a small 'village' of brightly-colored toy houses and a windmill directly beneath the Space Rider, "C'mon! We need to get a front row seat!" she exclaimed pulling him towards the giant soccer ball at the center.

"Oh great," Chuck muttered to himself, feeling the ball of dread forming at the base of his stomach, the one he always got whenever he knew he was about to enter a scary situation.

_"Get a grip Chuck! You're doing this for Katey!" _the more logical side of his psyche called out to him, _"You're doing this for her. What's the most some guy with a face covered in grease paint and some big stupid red nose can do to you?"_

Chuck felt a little embarrassed sitting in front of a gigantic soccer ball surrounded by a bunch of little kids, knowing he would stick out like a sore thumb to the other parents present, but again he had to remind himself that he was doing this for his little girl, all she had left in the world.

The overhead lights dimmed and a drumroll filled the air before the same painfully cheery announcer called out.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, wayfarers and Willamettans alike! It is that time, time to be entertained by that kooky jokester himself…please give a warm round of applause for Bebop the Clown!" _

A cheery carnival tune filled the air and a high-pitched voice soon followed, one that sounded like nails scratching against a chalkboard to the ex-motocross racer.

"Hey-Hey-Hey kiddies! It is I…Bebop the Clown!" the voice shouted as a multi-colored blur rolled into view and twirled like a tornado before coming to a halt directly in front of Chuck, causing him to gasp while the children began cheering wildly.

"Who's looking to have fun today?" the clown shouted to his audience, a grown man in a blue, yellow and green costume with different patterns that looked like it was crudely sewn together, big floppy red shoes that left Chuck amazed he was able to still remain upright, and the same bright red afro and matching nose as seen on the flier, topped off by a tiny black top hat.

A slew of various voices shouting "I am" and "Me! Me! Me!" nearly deafened the ex-motocross champ and he shut his eyes and clenched his jaw as a strident laughter came from the clown.

"Well then you've come to the right place!" Bebop shouted again before making a loud hiccupping noise, followed by a cluster of bubbles escaping from his throat, causing all of the children and even some of the adults to laugh.

Shouting out a loud 'Yee haw!' the glorified man-child again rolled backwards and performed a graceful back flip, landing atop a beach ball and balancing himself on it with the grace of a feline, rolling all around the play area and pulling out some hunting knives to juggle, much to the astonishment of those in attendance, many pulling out their camera phones to snap pictures of the spectacle taking place.

Eventually he made his way over to the nearby stairs and leapt high into the air, making his way over to a nearby cosmetics kiosk and swiping some of the lipstick props and proceeding to juggle three of them at once, making his way over to a redheaded little girl and giving her an opening to catch one of them. As she caught the prop, the clown quickly swiped out of the air and gently pressed it against her face, leaving a large pink circle that left her laughing and begging for more.

_"God, I wouldn't be surprised if that kid ends up having nightmares after this," _Chuck thought with a loud sigh as the clown drew his head back and began blowing large balloons and sending them flying all over the plaza, drawing cheers and laughter from his audience before crafting a giraffe out of a blue balloon and presenting it to a little boy who sat on a bench with his mother and then presenting the young woman with a heart-shaped balloon.

"You think that's all kiddies, well you haven't seen nothing yet?" Bebop the Clown called out as he rolled along the floor towards a large storage chest covered in goofy designs and reached inside, tossing out a supposedly one-thousand pound barbell, a pogo stick, a live chicken and a few other miscellaneous items before pulling out two small blue handled chainsaws and proceeding to juggle them effortlessly, a stunt which left the kids gasping in awe and the adults, Chuck included, gripping their seats in suspense.

A collective gasp of horror rang out as the man tossed both running chainsaws high into the air, but then gasped in relief as he caught both of them and clapped at his astonishing feat as he took his bow.

"Daddy this guy's amazing! Thank you so much for bringing me here!" Chuck heard Katey call out next to him and feeling her squeezing her arms around him.

Chuck shot his eyes open to see the clown pulling out a lettuce, tomato and some onions and slicing them up with the chainsaw before somehow managing to catch them on a slice of bread and then putting another on top of the small tower of vegetables to take a large bite out of his new sandwich, again to the wild cheers of the young spectators in attendance.

_"Well I guess things can't be too bad as long as Katey's enjoying herself," _Chuck told himself as the clown rolled backwards and began pushing a large red and blue box wrapped up like a Christmas present towards the center of the floor.

XXXXX

"Hey c'mon, we're gonna be late!" Taylor Nightinggale called out waiting impatiently outside the men's restroom for his best friend.

"Just a second man," Marvin Horner shouted back stumbling out of the stall and hastily making his way towards the sinks to wash his hands. That Stromboli he had eaten was already coming back to haunt him and he knew it was surely going to make them late for that double date they had set up with Rachel and her best friend Jolie. He knew without a shadow of a doubt Taylor would never let him hear the end of it if this were to mess up his chances with Rachel, if his best friend allowed him to make it out of this mall alive that is.

"You said that five minutes ago!" Taylor shouted back, waving a hand in front of him to dissipate the rancid odor emitted by his best friend's notoriously weak bowels.

_"Man, I'm so gonna take a bat upside his head if he messes this up," _the young man thought to himself.

Rachel Decker was an attractive young woman whom he had harbored a crush on for the past two years, entranced by her the second she walked into his office building for the very first time, and only recently had he finally gathered the courage to ask her out on a date.

Her best friend Jolie Wu was in town visiting from California and she didn't want her to be lonely, so it had been at her insistence it became a double date and he decided to bring along his best friend Marvin, hoping to help him get his mind off of things after his breakup with Sylvia.

_"Damn it, I should've asked Rufus to come along instead," _he thought while mentally kicking himself.

"Seriously man, I'm coming this time!" Marvin shouted back sticking his hands beneath the automatic hand drier, "I'm com-"

A loud drawn out moan cut the young man off, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Marv, if you don't get your poky ass out here right now, I am going to come in there and shove your head in the toilet the same way-" Taylor shouted just before he was cut off.

"Dude, shut up I hear something!" Marvin called back slowly approaching the stall where he swore he could hear the moans coming from.

"Oh, what the hell is it now?" Taylor snapped finally making his way into the restroom, only to be halted by his friend raising a hand and shushing him.

"Shh, I think somebody's hurt in there," Marv hissed as he slowly crept towards the stall.

Sure enough, the young man spotted a pool of fresh blood slowly creeping out from underneath.

"Call 911!" he shouted back to his best friend and made his way over to the door, finding it slightly ajar and pulling it open.

"Don't worry mister, we're-" Marv was saying just before he found himself tackled to the tile floor, "What the hell?"

He looked up to find a man in soiled, tattered clothing on top of him bleeding from numerous wounds all over his body. Whoever he was he wasn't sick, no…he looked like he was one of the walking dead with his pale skin, soulless white eyes and the large portion of his cheek that had been torn away.

Taylor Nightinggale was in the process of reaching for his cell phone just as the mystery man in tattered clothes burst from the stall and tackled his best friend to the floor, clamping his jaws down into the man's collarbone and tearing away a large hunk of flesh.

"Get away from him!" Taylor shouted dropping his phone and rushing over to grab the man by his shoulders, gripping his shoulders and pulling him off of his best friend, tossing him to the floor hard enough he could hear the man's skull cracking open.

It was too late, the damage had been done.

"Oh god Marv!" he said kneeling down beside his fallen friend, "Speak to me!" he said reaching for a nearby cloth and pressing it hard against the man's fresh wounds.

Marvin Horner tried to reply to his best friend, but all that could come out was a strained, throaty gurgle. The fear in his brown eyes was all his closest friend since childhood needed to tell him that he knew he wasn't going to make it.

"C'mon man, you've gotta pull through this," Taylor Nightinggale said to his dying friend, his voice cracking and the tears streaming freely down his face. A more logical side to his mind told him that he knew it was hopeless and that his best friend was going to die right here and now, yet a more idealistic side told him that there could be hope, the hope that somebody else would come through, maybe possessing the medical treatment necessary to save his friend's life.

It had to be a possibility, couldn't it?

A low moan came from behind him, followed by the same kind of rancid odor which wafted off of his best friend's killer, only amplified by a hundred.

He turned around to see another sick-looking man come staggering into the bathroom, his red and black checkered shirt drenched in the blood of a fresh kill, followed by a gray-skinned man in a tattered black tank top and a green beanie resting atop his head, followed by a police officer, yes a police officer of all people, someone who should have been able to help him, someone who should have been there to arrest the bastard who murdered his best friend.

"No…not like this…not like this…" Taylor Nightinggale muttered to himself as he backed away from the flood of sickly looking people piling into the bathroom, drooling over him as if he were a gigantic steak calling out to them.

"No…this is all some really fucked up nightmare," he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that he would wake up in his bed and that he would be bolting up a second later, having experienced yet another nightmare like the kind that would leave him bolting up in bed crying out for his parents like he had when he was little.

And then he felt a sharp stinging in his left calf and looked down to see his best friend in the entire world had somehow come back to life and was tearing into his warm flesh as if he were a midnight snack.

Taylor struggled to free himself from his friend's gasp and then felt the cold hand upon his shoulder, looking forward to see the plaid-shirted man pulling him closer towards his chipped yellow teeth and those soulless white eyes…

XXXXX

"Now what could your buddy Bebop have brought you today?" the clown laughed aloud, placing his ear against the large gift box acting as if he were trying to listen for what was inside, wanting to build up the anticipation and leave the children clamoring for him to open it, "What could it be? Just what could it be?"

"Do I even want to know?" Chuck Greene muttered to himself shaking his head and rubbing at his left temple and feeling the dread creeping back into his stomach, yet another surprise that was probably going to leave him on the verge of either shitting his pants or having a massive coronary.

"Just what's it going to be?" Bebop asked the crowd before again looking towards the giant box, "Maybe we need to have ourselves a little countdown," he said before knocking on its side, "On the count of three, say it with me…One!"

The children and a few of the adults cried out one in unison.

"Two!"

Chuck's nerves tensed and he could feel his heart racing.

"Three!"

A loud explosion rang out and the giant box collapsed from all sides, revealing a diminutive blue-haired figure with a 'hat' that looked like a melted ice cream cone, a blue top, purple baggy pants with matching floppy shoes and a pair of stilts that made the man more than seven feet tall.

"Well lookee here kiddies! It's my very own baby brother Stilts the Clown here to join in on all the fun!" Bebop the Clown triumphantly proclaimed.

"Oh great…two of them…" Chuck sighed as the smaller man began tossing ice cream bars to the children.

"Ice cream! Come on out everyone! Come on! Get your ice cream!" Stilts the Clown shouted, 'accidentally' bonking his older brother in the back of the head with a large cone that resulted in a bell ringing sound effect that left the children laughing and his redheaded brother pretending to get mad.

The two painted brothers then pulled out squirt guns and began spraying each other, catching several of their youthful spectators in the crossfire, before Stilts pulled out a cream pie and tossed it at his brother, who ducked beneath the projectile, sending it splattering into the face of a dark-haired mall employee.

"Oopsy daisy!" Bebop gasped aloud playing a gloved hand over his opened mouth, "Mr. Greg was just in the wrong place at the wrong time kiddies, here let me help you with that," the clown said reaching into his pocket to pull out a white handkerchief, which was then followed by a red one, then a blue one, then a yellow, and a green and an orange, all shades of the rainbow tied together before he finally reached the end and handed the long line of tissue to the mall worker to wipe his face off.

"And now kiddies, Stilts and I are going to need a volunteer for our next trick," Bebop called out, which had the children jumping up with their hands extended, wanting to be the aforementioned volunteer.

Bebop's painted grin quickly curved downward into a frown as he stared to the children, "Aw, I'm sorry, but we're going to need a bigger person for this next trick…someone like YOU!" he called out.

All eyes were drawn towards Chuck and he looked up to notice the clown was pointing directly at him, causing the color to drain from his face.

"Daddy, he wants you!" Katey said eagerly pushing him forth.

"No, sorry I can't do it," Chuck protested, only to be met by the typical 'sad puppy dog' expression from his daughter and a bunch of the little kids staring to boo him over his refusal.

"C'mon Daddy, you can do it!" she said trying to pull him along by the arm.

"Aww c'mon Gramps, you can't be that scared of a little fun now, can you?" Bebop playfully taunted, a motion Stilts seconded with a horn, a bit too close to Chuck's left ear and leaving it ringing.

The children were goading him on and after one final push from Katey the ex-motocross champion was on his feet and standing alongside the two clowns to the applause of everybody in attendance.

"Hooray! He's decided not to be a Debbie Downer! Let's give our new friend here a warm round of applause!" Bebop called out as Stilts again tooted his horn happily as the children cheered him on.

All suddenly fell silent as another drum roll filled the air and Chuck could once again feel his stomach tighten. However, when the chainsaws began revving behind him he could nearly feel it trying to force its way out through his rectum.

"Alright boys and girls, now it's time for the grand finale!" Bebop managed to shout over the cacophony. "Stilts, please be so kind as to lead our adoring public in the countdown!"

_"Countdown to extinction," _Chuck told himself as his eyes clenched shut.

"One!"

The revving of the twin chainsaws seemed to amplify in volume, the only thing the ex-motocross champion could hear.

"Two!"

_"Oh god...poor Katey's going to be an orphan!"_

"Three!"

A blood-curdling shriek filled the air, drowning out the whirr of both chainsaws.

Chuck shot his eyes open to find a woman pinned on the ground, struggling with some sick looking man before having her throat torn out.

More screams followed and he looked towards the upper mezzanine to find more people being attacked by more sick-looking people.

"Daddy!"

Chuck's attention was brought back towards his little girl, one of those 'people' having made their way into the enclosure and making a play for the children. It was then he got a good look at one of the perpetrators.

It was a lanky man who had been in his early 30's, his once stringy black hair now falling out in large clumps and exposing his rotting face underneath, most of the right side torn away while his eyeball hung by a thread, the remaining patches a sickly gray color that made him look like he had already been buried for many years.

Right now, he had his sights set on Katey Greene, something her doting father would not stand for.

Chuck looked around desperately for something he could use to take the man out, yet in a play area aimed at entertaining small children this would be the absolute last place he could expect to find a shotgun, an assault rifle, anything that goes boom or even some kind of bladed object he could use to take the man's head off.

Then his foot brushed against something and he looked down to see a soccer ball rolling around aimlessly. With no other alternative it was time for him to remember those skills which had helped his team win their regional championship back in junior high and he lined up his shot, drawing his leg back and kicking the ball as hard as he could, sending it flying into the sickly man's face and sending him falling flat on his back.

"Katey!" he cried running over and scooping the little girl into his arms.

"Daddy, I'm scared!" the child sobbed squeezing him tightly.

Chuck took a deep breath and kissed her on top of her head.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he told her, trying to keep his tone as soothing as possible in spite of all the carnage occurring around them.

He looked up to see more of those gray-skinned people piling in at an alarming rate and tearing into any person unfortunate enough to cross their path. He looked down to see several children had fallen to those freaks, the bastards tearing into them like a five star gourmet.

It was enough to make Chuck sick to his stomach, yet he knew he had to maintain his composure if he wanted to get both himself and his daughter out of this mess alive.

_"C'mon Chuck, think damn it!" _he told himself looking around for any means of escape.

To his left he spotted a stairwell leading out of the play area, but his hopes were dashed as a woman attempted to flee, tripping and breaking her leg before she was dog piled and torn into by a group of ravenous cannibals.

Chuck cursed silently to himself before spotting another entrance to his right and quickly climbing the stairs, finding himself on higher ground yet surrounded by dead bodies and large pools of blood that he knew would make his escape all the more hazardous.

"Quick! Run to safety!" a security guard shouted to the former motocross racer before raising his gun and firing everything he had into an oncoming horde before they too would overwhelm him and make him their next meal. Not much further away another man had gotten his hands on a baseball bat and was attempting to fight off some of those people before he was tackled from behind and had the back of his neck torn into. Elsewhere a burly man attempted to protect a young woman from two of those monsters, yet found both his arms savagely torn into for his efforts while the woman would run away and disappear into another mass.

They were horrifying sights, yet they made Chuck wonder.

_"Who are these people? What is wrong with them? Where did they come from? When did this start? Why is it happening? How did it spread so fast?"_

Chuck would quickly be snapped from his train of thought as more of those sick people began taking notice of him and his daughter. He had to get them out of there fast.

He jolted to the left to avoid an overweight man lunging at them and then spun his body to avoid a swipe from some guy in a bloodied Hawaiian shirt who somehow managed to hold onto a hunting knife. The evasive maneuver left him in a tight squeeze between a cosmetics kiosk and a small group that had been feasting on an unfortunate soul, only to spring to life as they heard the ex-motocross champ sprinting past them.

"Not today!" Chuck shouted to the horde, ducking low and tightening his grip on his beloved daughter as he forced his way through the mass of rotting flesh, plowing his way through and then bringing his foot up to knock away a woman whose intestines had been dangling from a deep rend in her abdomen.

Eventually he found himself approaching a set of doors leading out, the_ 'Food Court' _according to the letters above.

_"My only chance," _Chuck told himself as he stole another peek around to see those 'people' pouring out of the woodwork from all angles.

Making another mad dash he barely managed to avoid another person who had been pushing around a dolly with a gas tank chained to it. Approaching the doors he through himself against them back first, ignoring the fresh waves of pain as the metal bar connected with his lower spinal column. He had a daughter to protect and couldn't let some small thing slow him down.

The food court was another wide open space with some Wild West motif, further emphasized by the cheery cartoon character who greeted patrons with a six-shooter in one hand and a mug of beer in the other. There was no time to stop and admire the scenery as more of those people took notice of the new arrivals and began shuffling in their direction with arms outstretched.

To his right was an entrance to Leisure Park, yet he looked out to see more innocent people being slaughtered left and right by those 'things,' and ahead of him was another set of doors leading to the 'Al Fresca Plaza.'

Again Chuck ran towards the doors and slammed into them back first, knocking a sick person out of the way as he nearly stumbled through.

He immediately found himself near some large fountain where a young man was in the middle of being pulled from his bicycle and torn into whereas another man in a blue track suit could be seen trying to fight off some of those strange people outside of the Flexin' gym armed with only a barbell, trying in vain to protect some short cowardly bald guy in a forest green jacket, the stocky man fleeing in the opposite direction as his savior was tackled to the cobblestone tarmac and overwhelmed.

The boom of a shotgun blast suddenly filled the air, followed by the panicked screams of two women.

There were other survivors nearby, but he had to wonder if they would be on his side. Hugging his back to a nearby wall he inched towards the corner and looked around to see some man in a red and black flannel shirt armed with a shotgun taking down a pack of those people who had been menacing two women.

"Quick, get over here!" called out spectacled mall employee waving the two women forth.

"Hey, there's two more people over there! Quick, over here!" the shotgun-toting man called out waving them forth, just as a man in a blue jacket and black beanie emerged from behind him armed with a lead pipe.

Chuck said nothing and could only hope for the best as he ran towards the survivors, only to again find himself nearly knocked from his feet as another one of those gray-skinned creeps emerged from McHandy's Hardware. Thankfully the pipe-wielding survivor was there to cover him and delivered a home run that splattered the monster's brains all over the nearest window.

With the threat out of the way, Chuck bolted inside and safely lowered Katey to her feet before dropping to his knees and taking the time to catch his breath.

"Damn it..." he spat out struggling not to fall onto his stomach. He was about to utter another string of curses until he remembered his daughter was standing next to him.

"Is this everybody?" he heard a man's voice call out, "Lower the gate!"

Chuck rolled over onto his bottom and watched quietly as the gate lowered, more of those sick people still approaching and clawing away at the glass, wanting to get in and get at the fresh meat inside. Once again he could only sit back and ask himself the same questions as he did earlier.

_"Who are these people? What is wrong with them? Where did they come from? When did this start? Why is it happening? How did it spread so fast?"_


	3. Spilling the Blood of the Innocent

Author's Note: Well how do you like this people? It didn't take me nearly 2 years to get this update out!

XXXXX

Chapter 3: Spilling the Blood of the Innocent

"Hey mister, you alright?" a voice called from above.

Chuck looked up to see it was the same bespectacled mall employee who had been at the door, a younger man in a matching dark green t-shirt and shorts at his side.

"Yeah, I...I'm fine," he replied as he felt two pairs of hands gripping him under his arms and helping him back to his feet, "I'm fine, thanks."

"Daddy! What's happening here?" the voice of his beloved Katey called out.

Chuck looked down into her crystal blue eyes and could see the fear and confusion plain as day. He looked back to the gated entrance to see those weird looking people still out there clawing away at the glass, their glossed over eyes void of the traces of their former humanity.

"I don't know sweetie," he replied shaking his head sadly.

"But I'm scared!" Katey muttered.

Chuck got down onto a knee and pulled his daughter into a tight hug. He wanted to tell her so bad that this was all just one huge nightmare and that things were going to be alright.

But he would be lying.

Things were not alright. Things were messed up far beyond comprehension.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I promise," he whispered into her ear before giving her a kiss on the forehead.

"Hey, you mind making yourselves useful?" called an older man in a sweat-stained white dress shirt, the sweat cascading off his balding head like a waterfall, "Hey! Bring that over here!" he called to the green-clad man motioning towards a nearby wooden bench as he reached for a propane tank, only to bump into a visibly confused older woman, "Quit screwin' around!" he rudely snapped.

Chuck took his daughter by the hand and took in his surroundings finding himself in the mall's entrance plaza, a wide open corridor filled with mostly clothing stores and a few other specialty outlets. Most of the space was dominated by a giant clock with a large cartoon bumblebee atop it, something he found a bit childish for an establishment aimed mostly at grownups.

More sick people were piling against the front doors as the three men erected a patchwork barricade made from wooden benches, potted plants, discarded 2 x 4's and anything else they could get their hands on.

In addition to the three men and the disturbed old lady, there were the two men who provided cover as he came in from the Al Fresca Plaza, both of them talking about some cowardly friend they were separated from, the two women who had entered ahead of him and Katey, the blonde attempting to comfort her distraught friend, an arguing middle-aged couple near a lowered gate and lastly a young man in a yellow t-shirt pacing back and forth with a baseball bat in hand, trying to convince himself he was not afraid of the 'zombies' as he called them.

No wait, there was one more person present.

Reclining against a support pillar was a young woman who looked to be in her early to mid-20's with long auburn hair worn in a ponytail and dressed in a green jacket with multiple pockets and a pair of blue jeans. A small travel pack was strapped to her side and when she turned her head he noticed a Bluetooth in her right ear. She looked to be in deep thought and when she looked towards Chuck it was then he finally took notice of her emerald eyes.

"Hey! This is no time to ogle pretty girls, son!" a voice called out and Chuck turned to find the older man from the barricade walking towards him, "You lookin' to get yourself eaten alive by zombies?!"

Chuck stared towards the man incredulously and took time to gather his words before replying, "What? Did you just say 'zombies?'"

"Take a look out there!" the man said pointing towards the doors, "If those ain't zombies, what would you call 'em? There's been more and more of 'em since the past hour. Now they're all that's out there."

"Zombies," he heard Katey whisper before the man chuckled aloud.

"Eh look on the bright side," he said nudging Chuck, "Zombies are stupid and slow. We should be safe in here."

Again Chuck stared uneasily towards the man wondering if he had truly lost it.

_"Zombies don't exist," _he told himself, _"Only in those trashy late night horror flicks you used to sneak down and watch with your brother when Mom and Dad were sleeping."_

"You hear that ladies and gentlemen? Zombies do exist and have converged upon Willamette, Colorado!" a woman's voice called out.

Chuck turned to find an attractive Asian-American woman descending the staircase behind him with a hand-held camera in hand, followed closely by a short, balding African-American mall employee.

"Ma'am, I really don't think you should be going down there!" the man called out in a raspy voice.

"Nonsense! The people have to know the truth!" the woman replied focusing her camera towards the front entrance and zooming in on the zombies, "Watch closely people, zombies are out there," she spoke to the audience she believed would view the footage.

"And who the hell are you?" Chuck snapped as the woman got dangerously close to him.

"Do not be alarmed. Not all hope is lost as evidenced by the iron will of a select few survivors," the woman said zooming her camera's lens in on the former motocross champion.

"Lady, if you don't tell me what the hell is going on here then I honestly doubt your scoop will be seeing the light of day!" Chuck said lunging for the camera, only for the woman to leap backwards and nearly take down the janitor behind her.

"Rebecca Chang, Channel 6 Action News," the woman introduced herself, "You are live at ground zero of the zombie apocalypse."

"Okay seriously, what's with all this 'zombie' bullshit? Zombies only exist in the movies!" Chuck snapped clutching at his throbbing temples.

"Oh really? Then how do you explain those 'things' out there?" the aggressive reporter asked cocking an eyebrow.

"Something is afoot and I _must_ document this at once!" she declared switching her camera back on.

"Well go do your documenting elsewhere," Chuck again snapped.

"Your funeral," the woman muttered under her breath before making her way over to the two men and attempting to get an interview with them.

"About damn time. I swear that lady was gonna drive me up the wall if I had to spend another second around her," the elderly janitor sighed shaking his head before extending his hand, "Otis Washington."

"Chuck Greene," the former champ said returning the handshake and pulling himself closer to the older man, "Is it true what she's saying out there about those things being zombies?"

The janitor shook his head again, "I ain't got no clue, son. One second me an' Freddie over there are workin' the ducts an' next thing we know, everything's goin' to hell in a hand basket!"

Chuck felt a heavy tug on his jacket's sleeve and he looked down to see Katey burying her face into his side was the distraught older woman approached.

"Madonna!" the woman called out before rushing towards the trio, "Have you seen my baby? I can't leave without my precious little sweetie doggy. Oh, where is my Madonna? Where is she? Oh, oh!"

Chuck looked into his little girl's eyes one last time before turning his attention to the janitor, "Otis, I need you to take my daughter somewhere safe. She doesn't need to be seeing any of this."

"But Daddy-" Katey protested, only to be cut off by her father's hand clutching the back of her head. He took a knee so he was looking directly into her eyes.

"Katey, listen to me. You need to go with the nice man. I promise I will be up in a few minutes to get you. Can you do this for me?"

The little girl's eyes widened in disbelief as she looked back and forth between her father and the old man. It took some time before she began to slowly nod her head and again threw her arms around him.

"Okay," she weakly replied.

"I will be back for you. I promise," Chuck said rising back to his feet.

"Here," Otis said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key, "Look, I'm not supposed to do this, but you seem like a good kid. This key will get you into the maintenance room over there," he said motioning to a set of double doors next to the Sports High sporting goods store, "There should be some things over there to help you out if you ever need 'em."

"My pops always said I was the 'resourceful type,'" Chuck said accepting the key, "Thanks."

Chuck then looked down to Katey one last time and kissed her on top of her head, "I love you. Now go with Mr. Washington."

"Sure thing Daddy," Katey said taking Otis' hand.

"Come along little lady. I'm sure Greg's still got some of those candy bars left in his secret stash," Otis said leading her hand-in-hand up the stairs, eliciting an excited cheer from the 8 year old.

Chuck made his way over to the double doors and made his way into the maintenance room, a small space filled mostly with toolboxes and shelves of miscellaneous junk. At the center was a workbench where a baseball bat and box of nails waited for him. The resourceful biker wasted no time in getting to work, only wishing he had a radio on hand to blast some of the heavy metal he always liked listening to as he labored. Within seconds he was done and held his new contraption in hand.

"You're not exactly a howitzer, but you'll have to do for now," he said aloud taking a few practice swings with his newly-crafted spiked bat.

Chuck made his way back into the entrance plaza where he was again approached by the man in charge of the barricade.

"Alright then! Feel like makin' yourself useful? Take a look around the mall and bring anything we can use for the barricade back here. Andale! C'mon! Pronto!"

"Whatever you say," Chuck said making his way past the pacing man and bickering couple, about to pick up a metal trashcan when another brewing confrontation caught his attention, this one between the ever gutsy Rebecca and some odd old man in a burgundy blazer.

"You! Stop right there!" the old man shouted poking his cane through the bars, "Do you have any idea what you've done. Why did you summon me to this place? What are you planning?"

"I was hoping you would be so kind as to fill us in on what is really happening here," Rebecca replied zooming her camera's lens in on the old man's face, to which he responded by trying to knock it out of her hands with his cane.

"Madonna!"

"What the hell?" Chuck asked returning his attention to the front doors.

"My Madonna is out there! Ohhhh!" the old lady called out rushing towards the front doors and trying to move a wooden bench out of the way.

"What are you thinking?" one of the men said rushing after her.

"Knock it off!" the other cried grabbing onto the woman.

"What the hell is that lady's problem?" Chuck asked clenching onto his spiked bat with white knuckled anticipation.

Both men were fighting valiantly to prevent the old woman from breaking through their barricade, yet her desire to save her beloved Madonna had given her some kind of strange psycho power that enabled her to push both men off with the strength of a man twice her size.

"Wait, baby! I'm saving you baby. Wait for me sweetie! Madonna! Madonna!" she cried as she finally managed to work her way through and open one of the doors, only for the zombies to grab hold of her and pull her through.

"Oh shit! They're inside!" cried the black tied man, but it was too late and within seconds the zombies were pouring through and overwhelming him along with the other two men near the barricade.

"What in the hell are you people doing?" a voice boomed from above and Chuck looked up to see a bald, dark-skinned man in a tan dress shirt and tie standing on the mezzanine.

"Run! Quick! Move! Get over here! Everyone! Move this way! Quick! To the stairs! Move!" he shouted waving everybody towards the nearby stairwell.

Unfortunately his voice was drowned out by the combined moans of the zombies filtering in and the deep booms of a shotgun as the plaid shirted man and his pipe-wielding friend attempted to fight back along with that middle-aged man, all three finding themselves quickly overrun and torn apart. It wasn't long before the fidgety man, the injured wife and the depressed lady all fell, leaving only that blonde-haired lady in the white zip-up sweater, who feebly attempted to fight back against the zombies by pushing them away, yet they would rise to their feet a second later to resume their hunt.

"Not today," Chuck said aloud and began swinging away with his spiked bat, knocking over any zombie in his way as he approached the woman.

"For the fences!" he shouted as he drew his arms back and delivered a powerful swing to the head of a beefy biker, sending his head flying away and hitting the nearest wall with a sickly splatter. It wasn't long before he was finally reaching the woman, jabbing a female zombie in the torso before following up with a strike to the head, knocking her to the floor with several nails sticking out.

"Are you alright, miss?" Chuck said getting up close to the woman.

"Verlene," the woman replied, "Please, get me out of here," she sobbed while looking over to where her best friend now lay dead.

"Stay behind me," Chuck instructed drawing his spiked bat backwards and going for another swing that dropped two zombies at once.

There was still a sizable horde in front of the former motocross racer, yet he wasn't going to let that deter him from getting back to his daughter. He brought his bat up and impaled a lanky man through the temple with one of the bat's nails before kicking his limp body backwards and swinging into the face of an obese man, pulling it away with large chunks of flesh embedded upon the nails.

Before he could advance any farther, Chuck felt a pair of bony hands clasping his shoulders and attempting to pull him backwards, only for the ex-champ to slam the undead menace backwards with all his body weight.

"Gonna have to work for your dinner, asshole!" he shouted before delivering a field goal kick to the head of a crawling adversary. He brought his bat up to another zombie in front of him and knocked its head clean from his shoulders, just as a loud pop rang out from behind and finding himself splattered with skull fragments.

"Gotta watch your six there, cowboy!" Rebecca Chang called from behind, a smoking pistol in her hands.

Chuck grimaced at the gooey chunks covering his beloved racing jacket, but quickly shrugged off the following waves of nausea as he took Verlene by the hand and dragged her towards the stairwell. "C'mon!"

More pops sounded as Rebecca followed after the duo with Chuck stopping on occasion to pummel any zombies that had gotten too close for comfort. They were almost at the stairs when Verlene came to a sudden halt.

"Dana!" she cried.

"What the-" Chuck spoke just before freezing in place.

He looked over to see the same woman Verlene had been comforting suddenly rising back to her feet, just mere moments after having her throat and intestines torn out. Her skin had now taken on the same pallid hue as the other zombies and her eyes were devoid of their former color. She looked towards the three survivors and let out a monstrous roar.

"C'mon, we have to go!" Chuck said grabbing the young woman by the hand, yet she struggled against his mighty grip.

"No, I can't leave my friend behind!" Verlene protested.

"But she's not your friend anymore!" he retorted, "She's...something else..."

Still, Verlene fought against his grip as he attempted to lead her up the stairs and with one final tug managed to free herself, yet unfortunately she would lose her balance and go tumbling over the railing, landing at an awkward angle that snapped her spinal column. Not even a second had passed before three zombies were converging upon her and making her their dessert.

Rebecca gasped in horror while Chuck looked away and grimaced before taking a few deep breaths and calming himself, "C'mon," he said taking the reporter by the hand and leading her towards the security office with more of those zombies hot on their tails.

It wasn't long before they were throwing themselves through the door and then sprinting down a narrow hallway where they came to another door and again threw themselves through, nearly landing on their faces.

"Daddy!"

Chuck pushed himself to his knees to see his daughter running towards him, only to halt herself when she noticed him covered in blood.

"I came back like I promised," he replied, feeling slightly embarrassed when she noticed his blood-drenched spiked bat lying on the floor next to him.

The former motocross racer pushed himself back to his feet and then reached down to help Rebecca back to hers. They were now in some rather dull generator room where Otis and the other dark-skinned man were waiting for them, in addition to a buxom blonde in a gray suit with a pair of glasses that gave her the stereotypical 'naughty librarian' look.

"Where are the others?" the nameless man demanded.

"I'm afraid we're all that's left," Rebecca answered.

The man stared grimly ahead before nodding towards Otis. The elderly janitor nodded back and made sure the door behind them was shut before pulling out a blowtorch and proceeding to seal it off from the inside.

"What?" Chuck asked in confusion.

"As long as those things are in the mall we better not use this door," the man spoke before making his way over to an air duct and put his ear to it. When he was sure it was safe he opened a small hatch.

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked.

"The air ducts. They'll get us back into the mall. Apparently, those things aren't smart enough to use the ducts so they won't be a factor," he replied.

"Wait a minute...you want to get back in there? What for?" Chuck demanded.

The man ignored him and opened the hatch, looking around before climbing inside.

"Hey! Hey!" Chuck called, sighing and throwing his arms into the air in defeat before turning to the blonde, now reclining against the air duct and staring at Rebecca.

"Nice camera. Are you some kind of journalist?" she asked.

Rebecca gasped and stared back in shock, "You don't know who I am? I'm Rebecca Chang! Channel 6 Action News!"

"I get the feeling she doesn't watch much TV," Chuck cut in.

"Could you show me what you've got so far?" the woman asked extending her hand.

Rebecca made her way over and flipped open the previewer to show everything she had recorded.

"You really seem to know what you're doing," the woman commented.

"This is going to be the scoop of a lifetime," the reporter replied, her dogged ambition once again irking Chuck, viewing it as a trivial matter when compared to the loss of human life.

"Who are you guys anyway?" Chuck demanded walking up behind the two women.

The recording then came to the confrontation with the combative old man, the nameless woman finding herself suddenly surprised.

"And what are you?" he added.

"I found that guy near the entrance. An odd fellow if there ever was one. Did he do something?" Rebecca asked.

"Nope. Thanks for showing me though," the woman replied beginning to walk away from them.

"Hey, we're not done talking yet. Just who are you guys?" the biker demanded.

The woman stopped in the doorway leading to the monitor room and turned to face them, "I'm Jessie. The man you saw earlier is Brad. That's all I'm authorized to tell you," she replied before entering and taking a seat at the desk.

"Who the hell do these people think they are?" Chuck asked looking over to Rebecca, who tapped a finger against her chin.

"If you ask me, they have 'government' written all over them. For whom and what, I don't know exactly," the reporter replied.

Chuck was fed up with being kept in the dark and walked into the monitor room where Jessie was seated at the desk watching the happenings on the monitors, the black and white feeds displaying various scenes of carnage that would make anybody else squeamish, yet she seemed to watch them over as if she had seen this stuff plenty times before, leaving him to wonder if she was more experienced in the field than her age seemed to indicate.

"Look, I am a citizen of the United States of America and if you know what the hell is going on here, I damn sure have a right to know!" Chuck said standing protectively in front of his daughter.

"I can't answer your questions," Jessie replied, sounding visibly agitated.

"Something seriously messed up is happening here and I'm starting to think you might have an idea as to what. If you know something then we have a right to know! Is this some kind of screwed up terrorist attack we didn't know about? What? Spit it out!" Chuck said struggling to maintain his composure.

Jessie exhaled deeply before she spoke, "Even if we rounded up everyone responsible and arrested them, I've still got my hands full with everything else that's going on around here. I'm deeply sorry, but I wish I could give you more answers Mister..."

"Greene, Chuck Greene," the biker replied, not in the mood for formalities.

"Mr. Greene, we are doing everything we can in our power. Please stay out of the way and let us do our jobs," Jessie replied before returning her attention to the monitors.

It was a fruitless effort and Chuck sighed in defeat as he looked back to Rebecca.

"So what now?" he asked while rubbing his throbbing temple, "Gracie Government over there isn't being very helpful."

"We find the truth ourselves," she replied, the determination plain as day in her dark eyes.

"Seriously?" Chuck asked, "You're going to go back out there, _there_ with all those...zombies?"

"Well we're not going to get our answers standing around here, are we?" she asked motioning to their drab surroundings.

"Correction, _your_ answers," Chuck retorted, "I could give two shits less about your 'scoop of the century,'" he said before looking over to Katey, his beloved daughter now back in the duct room and socializing with Otis, "All I care about is protecting my daughter and getting us out of here in one piece."

The mention of getting out suddenly made him think of how he would get out of there.

He wondered if the authorities had any awareness of what was occurring in the city. If so, they would likely have all entrances into the city blocked off. There had to be another way to escape and when he saw a wall-mounted phone in the duct room an idea came to mind.

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked.

"I'm calling an old friend of mine who owes me a favor. Real good guy. He's a private helicopter pilot and he should be able to get us out of here," Chuck said lifting the receiver and dialing a number.

He could hear the phone ringing on the other end, a welcome sign that the phone lines were still functioning yet he couldn't help but grow more anxious with every ring, mentally screaming at his friend to pick up. It wouldn't be until the sixth ring when he would finally hear the phone picking up.

_"Ed DeLuca Enterprises, Ed speaking," _the hearty voice called out from the other end.

"Ed, it's me Chuck."

_"Well I'll be damned! If it ain't good ol' Chuck Greene! How ya' been ol' buddy?" _he enthusiastically boomed.

"I'm not gonna lie. Right now things are pretty shitty. I'd tell you, but I don't think you'd believe me," the biker sighed pacing back and forth.

_"You sound like someone took a major shit in your punch bowl. What's going on?" _

"Look, I'm stranded at the Willamette Parkview Mall. Something seriously screwed up is going on and it's got people killing each other left and right. I don't know what caused it, but there's a lot of people dead and the tally's growing by the second. I'm holed up in the security office with Katey and a few others, but it's not looking good. Remember how you told me you owed me a favor? Well I'm cashing it in."

_"Well a promise is a promise. What do you need?"_

"I need you to get your old lady and get us out of here," Chuck spoke, the 'old lady' in question being Ed's personal helicopter.

The pilot sighed heavily before replying, _"She's in the shop right now. I know, I know yeah it's a bitch of a situation, but anything for you buddy. I'll need some time."_

"How much time are we talking?"

_"72 hours."_

Chuck found himself wanting to throw the phone against the wall as hard as he could, but yet he managed to calm himself and let out a strangled "Fine."

_"I know man. I'm sorry, but I gotta make sure everything's in good working order or else I'm gonna crash before I can even take off! But I will be there. That's a promise. I'm getting on it right now!"_

"Do what you can," Chuck said before hanging up the phone.

"Well that's just great," the biker said aloud.

"What's wrong?" Rebecca inquired.

"It's gonna take him three days to get over here," Chuck grumbled.

"Plenty of time to get my story," Rebecca piped without missing a beat, inviting awed looks from Chuck and Otis.

"Lady, are you insane? Do you have any idea of what is going on out there? There have got to be hundreds...no _thousands_ of those 'zombies' running around out there! Didn't you see what they did to all those people in the entrance plaza?" Chuck shouted, his daughter looking frightened at the sight of her father yelling.

The plucky reporter placed her hands on her hips and stared nonchalantly towards the former motocross champion, "Do you really believe I am some damsel-in-distress not capable of fending for herself? Believe me, I've been through enough to tell you I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

She pulled out her pistol and cocked the hammer to emphasize her point, "You seem to forget I actually saved you from one of those zombies out there. You're welcome by the way."

The woman brushed past him and made her way to the opened hatch and pulled herself inside before Otis could protest. The old janitor sighed heavily before looking back to Chuck, "You ain't plannin' on goin' out there after her are you? I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Looks like I don't have much choice," Chuck replied shrugging his shoulders.

Otis groaned bitterly, "You young folks never listen to me. Well if you're going to go at least take this," he said reaching into his pocket and producing a small black and yellow hand-held device, "It's a transceiver so we can stay in touch all throughout the mall. You'd better take this map too," he said pulling out a folded out piece of paper and handing it to him.

"Thanks," Chuck spoke before turning back to Katey and hugging her tightly.

"I promise I will be back for you. Okay? You behave for the nice people. You hear me?" he said before kissing her on the forehead.

"I will Daddy. Please be safe!"

Chuck looked back to Otis one last time and nodded.

"Those things are all over the mall. Be careful out there," the janitor rasped before stepping aside.

"I will and thanks," Chuck replied before climbing into the ventilation duct.

XXXXX

Author's Note: And so concludes my latest installment of "Case Greene," marking the return of several familiar faces all in one sitting.

In the scene where Chuck is assembling the spiked bat, the heavy metal reference is supposed to be my way of breaking the 4th Wall when that music plays as he assembles a combo weapon. Being a diehard metalhead I naturally _had_ to make some kind of reference to that.

Well I think that's pretty much all I have to say so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	4. Grave New World

Chapter 4: Grave New World

_"Chuck, you've done some crazy shit in your life, but this has got to be taking the cake," _the voice inside his head told him as he managed to pull himself out of the cramped metal duct and back into open, finding himself nearly bowled over by the stench of decomposing flesh amplified by a million.

"Damn it," he grunted aloud, hearing the moans of the dead in the distance and he approached the nearby chain-link fence.

Beyond the confines of the Willamette Parkview Mall it was nothing but a sea of inhumanity.

There had to be thousands of those zombies staggering about out there and they were still pouring in with every passing second, almost like they were magically appearing out of thin air.

Not only that, he could still hear the sounds of survivors struggling: the police sirens, the gunshots, the dying screams...

Chuck's foot suddenly brushed against something and he looked down to find a pair of binoculars. Out of morbid curiosity he picked them up and peered through them.

On the rooftop of the nearby C.W. Factory he watched as a lone woman attempted to hold off a small crowd of advancing zombies armed with only a handgun, only to run of ammo and find herself tackled and falling to the pavement below. It wasn't much farther away in the mall parking lot where a motorist was stranded atop his battered white sedan swinging away wildly at the zombies surrounding him with a baseball bat. When he could hear the whirr of helicopter blades above he suddenly stopped everything he was doing and began waving his arms wildly, the distraction enabling the zombies to grab him and pull him to the pavement below.

"What the?" Chuck asked to nobody in particular as he looked up to see an unmarked helicopter flying overhead, followed by two more. He wondered if they were military, but yet they looked more like they were just scouting the terrain rather than attempting a rescue mission. It was a sight that left him swallowing hard and worrying for Ed's safety.

"Hello there!" a voice called from behind, causing Chuck to nearly jump out of his skin.

Whirling around on his heel with his spiked baseball bat at the ready, he turned to find a well-dressed fellow casually strolling towards him like he didn't have a care in the world. When he got a good look at his face it instantly dawned on him.

It was the same man from the gas station!

Chuck opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could.

"You're not from around here are you?" the man asked in his thick Spanish accent.

"What's it to you?" Chuck asked narrowing his blue eyes at the mysterious man, already not liking the vibe he was getting from him.

The man walked past him and looked out towards the carnage before them, "Tell me, what have you seen thus far?"

_"Who the hell does this creep think he is?" _Chuck asked himself, deciding for now he would play along. "Well what is there to say? This place has turned into a goddamned Hell on Earth!"

"I guess you could say, everyone's already dead?" the man asked turning to face him, a smirk cracking his features.

Chuck stared at the man in utter disgust, wanting to bash his brains in right then and there.

The nameless Latin man looked back to him, a fire burning brightly in his dark eyes as his tone became even more sinister, "This my friend...is Hell!"

That did it right there. He had crossed the line.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, you freak. You are seriously fucked up and you are going down!" Chuck said advancing towards the man with the spiked bat drawn.

A loud ding sounded from his right and temporarily distracted the former motocross champion, giving the nameless Latino time to reach for a small metallic object he would toss into the air. A second later there was a bright flash and a deafening bang.

"What the hell gives?" Chuck shouted, unable to hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears. The blast left him blinded and he was waving his arms around wildly for several seconds until he felt a hand gripping onto his shoulder.

"You're going down!" he shouted to his unseen assailant, delivering a haymaker that knocked the person from their feet.

It was then his hearing slowly began coming back to him and he could make out a woman's voice yelling at him "Please don't hurt my husband!"

The blinding light began to dissipate and it was then Chuck could make out the solid wall which he would brace himself against. Solid shapes began taking form around him and it was then he was able to make out the older man in the pink shirt lying on the tarmac before him, pawing around anxiously for his lost glasses. Standing nearby with her hands clasped over her mouth was a bespectacled older woman in a bright green shirt and next to her was a grubby-looking younger man with a mustache and goatee with his brown hair worn in short dreadlocks, a hunting knife in hand and his light green sweater covered in fresh blood.

"Please, don't hurt me!" the downed man pleaded, "We came here to get away from the zombies!"

Chuck blinked his eyes repeatedly as his vision fully returned to him and the ringing had subsided.

"I'm terribly sorry about that. I thought you were someone else," Chuck said offering his hand to the down man, who seemed initially hesitant to take it, "I mean it. I didn't mean to attack you like that. Some creep was here just a second ago and I tried to stop him!"

The man looked warily towards him for a few more seconds before finally accepting his hand and grabbing a golf club before Chuck pulled him back to his feet. The woman then ran over and embraced him.

"I'm terribly sorry," Chuck repeated, "I'm not here to hurt anybody. My name's Chuck."

The couple eyed him cautiously before the man spoke up, "I'm Jeff Meyer and this here is my wife Natalie. The young feller over there is Brandon. He helped us get up here thinking we could be safe."

"I know of a safe place not too far from here. You can follow me," Chuck said with a wave of his arm.

"Um hey mister...Chuck, is there anybody else there?" Brandon asked as they jogged towards the platform and pulled themselves onto the higher platform, the motocross racer stopping to help the Meyer couple up.

"Just three other people. There are a few others running around here somewhere and I was on my way out to find them before I bumped into that weirdo man," Chuck replied.

The biker was first into the duct and waited until he made sure his three companions were behind him and with seconds they were crawling through to the vent room.

"Thanks a lot for your help. I really owe you one," Jeff said reaching out and shaking Chuck's hand, "Here, you might need this more than I will if you're gonna be going back out there," he said offering his golf club, which the biker graciously accepted.

"I'm never going to the mall again as long as I live. I've had enough of this," Natalie whined before Jeff took her to the back. Brandon only offered a nod before making his way to the back.

"Here," Chuck heard Otis' raspy voice call out and he turned to find the janitor offering him an apple and a jug of coffee creamer, "You might be out there a while, son. This should hold you over until you find something else to eat."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Chuck said before making his way back into the vent.

Chuck made his way back outside and approached the elevator the trio arrived in and pushed the call button, the same cheery_ 'ding'_ signaling its arrival. He stepped into the elevator and rested the golf club against his shoulder, knowing he was going to need to be ready in case he encountered any more zombies or that creepy Latin guy again.

_"Unless he's some kind of ninja he couldn't have gotten far," _he told himself as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open and he found himself in a large storeroom filled with shelves of boxes, barrels, supplies and other miscellaneous goods for restocking the stores around the mall. Fortunately the room appeared to be empty and he began looking around for anything else he could use until he heard a beeping sound coming from his coat pocket and he pulled out the transceiver.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, it's Otis from back at the security room. Can you hear me Chuck?"_ the janitor's raspy voice called out.

"Loud and clear. What's up?"

_ "Let me give you a rundown of the mall's layout so you know what you're doing. Right on the other side of that warehouse you'll find the Paradise Plaza. There are lots of shops there...restaurants, sporting goods, books...you name it. It's a pretty big mall so you'll probably need to use the can now and then. Just check the map to find the restrooms when you need to,"_ Otis explained.

"Alright thanks. Keep me informed if anything else comes up," Chuck replied before putting the transceiver away.

Chuck was about to advance farther along when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind him.

"Zombies, huh? I had a feeling more of you would show up," he said taking cover behind a shelf and raising his golf club, ready to hit an eagle off a zombie's skull. He waited for the steps to draw closer and it was then he stepped into the open ready to swing, cut off by a woman's shriek.

It was that Jessie lady from the office and now she was falling flat on her ass.

"Ohh...oh god! It's you! Look, don't sneak up on me like that!" Chuck scolded reaching down to help the young woman back to her feet.

"Brad was attacked. I located him on the monitor...oh!" she spoke trying to stand, only to fall back to her knees.

"It's probably just a sprain," he said helping her up and walking her over to the elevator.

"I've gotta help Brad...or he's done for," she protested.

"Alright fine. Give me your gun," Chuck motioned for her handgun, "Come on. I'm the reason you just got hurt. Let me help."

"No! I can't let a civilian do that. That's against regulations!" she protested.

"Yeah, well I don't think they had zombie-infested malls in mind when they wrote those regulations," Chuck shot back.

"Do you know how to use this?" she asked tepidly handing him the gun.

"Kind of," he said accepting the gun and testing its sights, "I've never fought a war, but it should be as simple as point and shoot."

"Look, after I'm through helping you, you and I are going to have a nice little chat," Chuck said tucking the gun into his belt.

"If you can get that past Brad first," Jessie replied bracing herself against the wall and making her way back to the elevator.

Chuck ignored her last comment and made his way to the entrance that would take him to the Paradise Plaza.

Stepping out into the open he was met by some cheery music being played over the speakers, quickly replaced by the feral snarls of a large mass of zombies, followed by more gunshots and the exasperated cries of survivors.

He looked to his left to find two armed guards near the downed gate leading to the entrance plaza, both of them on the verge of being overwhelmed when one of them looked over to Chuck.

"Sir, it's dangerous! You have to get out of here!" the balding man called out just as his gun clicked empty and he was tackled to the floor, a zombie tearing into his neck as he struggled to get it off. His partner didn't fair much better and was down to beating off some attackers with a nightstick before he too fell to the floor and found himself made into dinner.

"Damn it." Chuck muttered to himself, surrounded by the undead from all directions with numerous things on his plate at once.

He had to provide backup for Brad, find Rebecca, stop that creepy guy if he found him again and rescue any more survivors he would happen across.

Aside from the monumental task of raising his daughter as a single father following his wife Pam's death, this had been the most responsibility ever placed on his shoulders.

_"But if I don't do it then who will?" _Chuck asked himself as a zombie drew dangerously close and he swung the club upwards into its jaw, shattering it upon impact.

The attack caught the attention of another zombie staggering around outside of the Contemporary Reading bookstore and Chuck drew his club backwards and with a cry of "Fore!" launched a golf ball that traveled through the zombie's right eye and out of the back of its head.

More zombies took notice of Chuck and started lumbering towards him, including one armed with a hunting knife who shot its arm out and managed to slice him across the chest, causing him to cry out in pain. With a cry of rage he slammed the club into its forehead, splitting its skull wide open. He began swinging his 9 iron and launching more balls at the zombies, hard enough to tear through a few more decaying craniums before running out of balls and finding himself back down to using his spiked bat, wanting to conserve his bullets for backing up Brad.

_"I gotta stop screwing around with these undead yahoos and get over to help Brad out," _Chuck told himself as he climbed onto an elevated island in the center of the corridor and ran along it, barely dodging the decaying hands reaching out for him. Before he could reach the end and attempt to jump to the next island the transceiver started beeping.

"Out of all the times! This better be damn good Otis!" Chuck shouted aloud before pulverizing another zombie's head. When he was confident there was enough space he raised the transceiver, "Yeah?"

_"Chuck, you there? It's me Otis, the janitor," _the old man's voice called out, barely audible as the zombies closed in on the motocross champion.

"You kind of caught me at a bad time. You'd better make it quick!" he called back, barely dodging a swipe from a tall zombie.

_"I've been watching the monitors here and I got some info you might want. There's some dark-haired guy wanderin' around in Paradise Plaza. He's carryin' a camera like that reporter lady friend of yours. I guess he must be some kind of journalist too. Takin' pictures at a time like this...he must be crazy,"_ Otis spoke.

It wasn't the kind of info he was looking for, but if there was another survivor out there then it wasn't a bad idea to have a few extra helping hands on board.

"Okay, where is he?" Chuck shouted as he was forced to cut through a shin-high moat to escape a large cluster of undead.

_"He's up in the Colombian Roastmasters café. You're headin' towards it right now,"_ Otis replied.

"I'm on it," Chuck replied shoving the transceiver back into his pocket and slamming his bat into the face of another zombie before going for a grand slam that sent three flying backwards. Unfortunately for him, another zombie managed to get close enough and went for his throat.

"Get off!" he screamed before performing his back drop attack that slammed the zombie backwards. Another undead menace practically running towards him he quickly shot his arms out and intercepted the would-be attacker.

"Hands off!" he screamed just as he lightly lifted the zombie off the ground and tore its arms off, showering his face and upper torso with blood in the process.

"Damn it! I'm gonna need some new clothes!"

XXXXX

Author's Note: And so concludes yet another installment of "Case Greene" compliments of yours truly!

To keep my readers up to date I will be listing survivors rescued and escorted back to the security office at the end of each chapter. In this chapter it is:

**Jeff Meyer, 55**

**Natalie Meyer, 53**

**Brandon Whittaker, 22**

Well I think that's it for this installment so as always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	5. Say Cheese

Chapter 5: Say Cheese

It was only a few more steps before Chuck was walking up to Colombian Roastmasters yet as he drew nearer he heard the moans of a zombie followed by another man's voice.

"Ah yeah, that's it Kenny Boy! Work with me here!" the voice called out casually followed by the snapping of a camera, "That's it! Just a little closer! **CLICK! **Yeah, that's perfect!"

Chuck approached the cafe entrance and immediately his eyes widened.

Standing before him was a dark-haired man in a black blazer and charcoal slacks with a camera in hand, snapping pictures of a zombie staggering towards him.

"C'mon Kent! Just a little closer," he said to the zombie, who had once been a young man with spiked up auburn hair and a camera strapped to his back, "Oh yeah, you're giving me some good material here! Keep up the good work!" he said to the zombie managing to keep a safe distance between himself and the undead photographer with every picture snapped. "You're gonna make me some big bucks here!" the photographer chuckled while using one of the circular tables to keep the zombie called 'Kent' at bay.

"Excuse me!" Chuck called out.

The photographer did not immediately reply to him, instead still focusing on the zombie.

"Thank you Kent. You've been fantastic!" the man spoke, putting extra emphasis on 'fantastic' before driving his fist into the zombie's gut and tearing out his intestines with a mighty tug, much to Chuck's disgust. The man looked down to his watch before walking over to the former motocross champ with an ear-to-ear grin.

"You're just in time, pal," the man said casually extending his still blood-soaked hand, "The name's Frank West. We might as well get acquainted now because pretty soon the whole world's gonna know it when I get the ultimate scoop. You can say you knew me before I got big."

Chuck stared at the man's hand in disgust and backed away when he extended it further into his personal space.

_"Damn it Otis. What the hell did you talk me into?" _he asked himself knowing he already did not like the vibe this man was giving off. _"No way in hell I'm telling him about the security office."_

"Uh never mind...I was just heading out of here," Chuck said backing away from the clearly insane photojournalist as a small group of zombies rounded the corner. Before he could take another step the man's crimson hand was gripping onto his jacket's sleeve.

"What's the rush? Stay and help me capture history here!" Frank said raising his camera and snapping a few pictures of the approaching horde.

"Buddy, if you haven't realized those are flesh-eating zombies!" Chuck said raising his spiked bat in anticipation of a battle. "Are you insane?"

The photojournalist chuckled darkly, "Can't do that. Not when I'm sitting on a goldmine here."

_"Christ, this guy's worse than Rebecca!" _he told himself.

"Screw this shit," Chuck said charging towards he group and swinging his spiked bat, sending one of the zombies flying backwards before leaping into the air and performing a jump kick that sent one of the zombies flying backwards into the nearby SporTrance sporting goods store and then another that sent a third zombie flying into the nearby wall with a sick splat. He then ducked low and executed a foot sweep that knocked a walking corpse from its feet and finished it off with a curb stomp before he pummeled the last two into hamburger meat.

"Yes!" Frank shouted enthusiastically pumping his fist into the air, "Those were amazing shots! You really know your way around a zombie or two...or in this case six. Pal, you've gotta work for me. I'm serious. You could be my model!" he cried out before stopping and motioning towards a non-existent marquee "Think about it, your name being acknowledged as one of the great heroes of the 'great Willamette zombie apocalypse,' covered of course by yours truly," he said pointing to himself with his thumb.

"Who the hell runs around taking pictures when there's people dying all over the place?" Chuck shouted angrily.

Frank simply laughed.

"My friend, being knee deep in death and destruction is like second nature to me. I've covered wars ya' know?" the photojournalist boasted before again extending his hand, "So whatta ya' say? You in? You help me and I help you."

This man had gone insane and it left Chuck wanting to knock his block off right then and there. Instead he shook his head.

"I don't have time for your sick games. I have innocent people to protect," he said turning on his heel and walking away.

Frank West narrowed his eyes at the ex-motocross racer, insulted beyond belief.

_"Who does this guy think he is?"_

Chuck was almost at the stairs when he heard the cocking of a gun behind him.

"Say cheese!"

Chuck instinctively rolled out of the way, straight into the Lady About Town clothing store, just as the bullet whizzed past him.

_"You were right Chuck. This guy's just another psycho," _he told himself as another bullet impacted the wall just to the left of his head.

Frank entered the store with a look of sheer madness in his dark eyes, firing another bullet that struck the shelf which the racer had taken cover behind.

"You can't run and you can't hide!" the scorned photojournalist shouted leaping into view and delivering a roundhouse kick that caught his prey in the stomach, sending him flying backwards into a rack full of handbags.

Chuck felt the fresh wave of pain shooting up and down his spinal column but before he could attempt to roll over he felt his legs being grabbed and next thing he knew he was in the air being spun around repeatedly, then there was the sense of weightlessness, followed by the shatter of glass as he went flying through a store's display window and then the sickening splatter as he collided with a wall of zombies.

"Ha! I knew watching 'Saturday Night Slam Masters' would pay off!" the photojournalist taunted, the victim falling to his giant swing. "Now for the drama of a man's last few seconds of life," he said readying his camera.

By now Chuck Greene was experiencing the worst physical pain ever felt in his life. None of the spills endured during his days on the motocross circuit could compare to what the insane photographer had just done to him. He was literally thrown through the air like a rag doll and found himself lying in a sticky crimson substance, the blood of the zombies he had collided with after crashing through the jewelry store's display window.

What was worse, there were more zombies still standing and they were closing in on him.

"Damn it," Chuck grunted as he pushed himself back to his hands and knees, struggling to maintain his balance in the sticky pools of coagulated blood before grabbing onto the nearby counter and pulling himself back to his feet. He could hear Frank's strident laughter in the distance and ducked back down, but not before grabbing the cash register.

The laughter did not cease as Frank West walked into Marriage Makers, stopping only briefly to admire some gems in a nearby display case before approaching the front counter.

"Now to think of what I'm going to call this picture when I'm hanging it proudly on my wall," the photographer wondered aloud.

"How about 'Smile Pretty Shithead?'" Chuck Greene shouted springing back to his feet and slamming the cash register into his stalker. With his opponent stunned, the furious father vaulted over the front counter and delivered a front drop kick that sent the madman flying out of the store and into a crowd of waiting zombies. There was no way in hell he would survive that.

"Score Chuck: 1 – Psycho Frank: 0," the victorious biker grunted before pulling out the apple Otis gave him and taking a bite, feeling his energy slowly returning to him as he devoured it whole.

"And I thought Rebecca was hungry for a scoop," Chuck said aloud as he made his way back into the corridor. There was no sign of the psychopathic photographer, only the cracked remnants of his camera, "Guess they had the bigger appetite."

Chuck was about to make his way towards the food court when he heard a woman's screams.

"Help me!"

That wasn't too far away from him. He exited the jewelry store and took a left down the corridor, eventually happening across a door next to Tucci's of Rome labeled _'No Admittance, Employees Only.'_

Readying his gun, the former racer carefully edged his way into another large storage room, only to take cover behind a toolbox when he saw what was happening.

"Stop it! You're hurting him!" a brunette shrieked in horror as a figure in a maroon hooded sweatshirt pummeled away at a man tied down to a wooden chair with a crowbar.

"I will stop when I want to. Until then, shut your trap bitch!" the hooded man shouted, prompting further whimpering from the restrained woman.

"Aww, look what you did Derrick, you done went and hurt her feelings!" another thug called out in mock sympathy.

Chuck crept further towards the scene where altogether he spotted four looters, all wearing matching maroon hooded sweatshirts that had _'Willamette, Colorado' _embroidered upon them in yellow letters and matching blue bandanas covering the lower portions of their faces.

In addition to the dying man tied to the chair there were three more battered corpses lying on the floor around him, two men and a lady. If he didn't act soon that woman was going to be next. Reaching over and grabbing a nearby fire ax he inched further towards the scene until he accidentally bumped a toolbox and sent it clattering noisily to the floor.

_"So much for the subtle approach," _Chuck told himself as the four hoodlums turned to face him. _"Time for hero mode."_

"Hey assholes, why don't you leave her alone?" he shouted to the hooligans.

The four thugs took in the lone biker and began laughing hysterically, "Why don't you mind your own business Gramps, or else you're gonna end up like the last wise ass here!" the leader called out turning the dead man's head towards Chuck so he could show off his brutal handiwork in an effort to intimidate the man.

"Look, why don't you let her go and you can have whatever else it is you want," Chuck said motioning towards the electronic goods present throughout the large room.

"Well, you're definitely gonna need a body bag when I'm done with you!" the lead looter threatened.

"Well, I am dying standing here wasting my time talking to you," the former champ retorted.

"Get him, boys!" the lead thug shouted charging after Chuck with his crowbar raised, only to take a horizontal swing to the gut from the biker's fire ax.

"You son of a bitch!" cried the second thug, armed with a tomahawk that he attempted to split Chuck's skull open with, only to be knocked backwards by a hard haymaker punch.

A third thug descended upon him armed with a sledgehammer, yet the former motocross racer raised the ax above his head and did a downward vertical swing that sliced the man's arm off, leaving him screaming wildly as blood gushed from the now severed stump until he fell over dead from blood loss.

"You're going down asshole!" shouted the last thug leaping towards Chuck and slashing at him wildly with his bowie knife, only for the former champ to raise the ax to block an incoming attack and then strike him in the face with the blunt end of his handle. With the attacker stunned, he grabbed him in a headlock and fell backwards driving his head into the ground.

"That the last of you wise guys?" Chuck asked.

On cue, the second thug rose back to his feet regaining his bearings only to fall again when Chuck tossed the ax at him end-over-end and it ended up in the man's skull.

With the looters defeated Chuck knelt down and picked up the last thug's bowie knife before making his way over to the woman, who again whimpered as he drew closer.

"Lady, relax. I'm not here to hurt you," he said taking the bowie knife and slicing through the ropes which bound her wrists together.

"Oh god, Jeremiah. No!" she sobbed running over and falling to her knees before the bludgeoned man in the chair across from her.

"Miss, I'm deeply sorry for your loss, but it's not safe here. Come with me, please. I can take you somewhere safe," Chuck said reaching down and extending his hand.

"Jeremiah thought this place would be safe," she replied looking at the dead man, "but then those bastards...they showed up and killed the others..."

"Ma'am, please listen to me. There is a security office not far from here. I promise you won't encounter any more of those thugs there. Please, come with me if you want to live," he said keeping his hand extended to the woman.

The woman sniffed deeply before reaching into the dead man's pocket and pulling out a golden locket. "Alright, please just get me out of here."

Chuck nodded and holstered the bowie knife, in addition to recollecting the fire ax and scooping up the sledgehammer and tomahawk used by the other thugs. The woman appeared frightened and it looked as if he would have to lead her back to the security office.

"Come on," he said taking her by the hand.

XXXXX

Following a bit of a struggle in the cramped quarters Chuck and the woman (whose name he had learned was Tamara) pulled themselves out of the ventilation shaft and back into the duct room, dusting themselves off before turning to greet Otis.

"Thank you so much. Please, my sister and niece are still around here somewhere. Find them please!" Tamara pleaded before making her way to the back.

"I will," Chuck spoke before turning to speak to Otis, "How's Katey doing?"

"Doing just fine. That Natalie lady you saved earlier has been watching over her. We found some coloring books so that's been keeping her busy," the old man smiled.

Chuck couldn't help but smile back.

He felt relieved his daughter was able to keep her head through this whole ordeal, acting like the typical Katey Greene she was before. Furthermore, he was happy there would be someone there to look out for her while he was away.

_"That will be your job when you come back," _he told himself.

His thoughts flashed to that psychopathic photographer and how he almost killed him back in that jewelry store.

_"No, don't think like that Chuck. That bastard is dead. He won't bother you or anyone else ever again. You're not going to die here. You're going to come back for Katey and you're going to get out of here alive," _he told himself before turning to Otis.

"Just keep doing what you're doing," he said before climbing back into the duct and making his way back into the mall.

XXXXX

Author's Note: And so concludes yet another installment of "Case Greene." Damn, I'm cranking these new chapters out faster than I expected. Can't believe it took me nearly 2 years to get this story updated!

**Cloud Link Zero: **Oh man, I bet you're gonna be so pissed off after reading this chapter.

For survivors rescued in this chapter:

**Tamara Stein, 32** – She is originally from "Dead Rising 2" and was one of the survivors of the initial slaughter who made it to the Fortune City Safehouse along with Chuck, Katey and 5 other people I believe. The guy who died was supposed to be Jeremiah Eckland, one of the victims of the initial slaughter after Chuck completes "Terror is Reality."

Well I think that's everything for the time being so until then read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	6. Backup for Brad

Chapter 6: Backup for Brad

Following a stop by Cantonbury's, Chuck finally had some fresh clean clothes consisting of a white dress shirt and black tie, along with some gray dress pants, black dress shoes and a gray fedora.

In addition to the new clothes he had stopped by SporTrance and the warehouse for a few new items, followed by a trip to Paradise Plaza's maintenance room to craft some more combo weapons.

Now he stood just outside the Entrance Plaza's doors in Leisure Park looking over to the food court entrance across from him, surrounded by zombies. They must have heard the battle going on inside and it left him hoping Brad was still among the living. He wouldn't know until he cleared them out.

Leisure Park was a large enclosed space serving as home to a large clock tower in the center, several benches and ponds, flower gardens and a pavilion with picnic tables. On a normal day this looked like some place he would have taken Katey to, a place he would have expected to kick back and listen to the birds singing while she played with the other kids, maybe see some guy playing Frisbee with his dog, some artistic soul drawing a picture of the clock tower, a family grilling out, just normal mundane occurrences.

Now it was just another open graveyard filled with creatures straight out of a horror movie stumbling around drunkenly looking for their next meal.

"Let's hope this works," Chuck whispered to himself hefting a crude explosive device he crafted from a leftover propane tank and box of nails. With a mighty _'oomph' _he tossed the tank into an area where a sizable amount of living dead had congregated. Pulling out the pistol Jessie gave him he took careful aim and fired a lone round, resulting in an explosion that sent nails flying in all directions and killed eight zombies in one sitting.

As expected, the explosion caught the attention of the other zombies and they started marching in the direction of the blast.

"Time to move," he told himself stepping onto his newly acquired skateboard and began pushing himself down the paved walkway, maneuvering his way around several zombies and even managing to bowl a few over before he drew closer and put away the board, drawing out a pair of boxing gloves he found in SporTrance now outfitted with bowie knives.

"Round 1," he called out running over to a nearby zombie and hacking across its face before driving his 'claws' through another attacker.

He decided to move on when the horde grew, charging forward along a narrow path using a nearby tree to create some space between himself and the zombies, only cutting down those who had gotten too close for comfort, delivering a gory uppercut that took the head off of a jawless man, mentally hearing a boxing bell's jarring ring.

He continued forth until coming to the food court's entrance, finding it surrounded by another group of the living dead. He was about to reach for his 'Defiler' (the fire ax and sledgehammer taped together) when he looked to the right of the doors and an evil grin crossed his features.

"Well what have we got here?" he asked himself aloud as he happened across a waiting lawnmower. "Time to have some fun," he said running over and pulling the cord.

The grating din caught the crowd's attention, but before they could react Chuck was mowing over most of them, sending blood and severed limbs flying all over and showering his new clothes with gore. He wanted to keep them coming to him for every one that died meant one less horror in the world. The bloody spectacle continued until the shredded remnants of forty zombies covered the once pristine grass and he continued until the mower had run out of gas.

Chuck heard a moan from behind him and turned to see a bearded man staggering towards him. Looking down to the ground he noticed a severed human hand and quickly picked it up. "Talk to the hand," he said shoving it into the zombie's mouth and kicking him backwards.

The former motocross racer pulled one of the gore-covered glass doors open and made his way inside before any more of those zombies could entertain the thought of showing up and making his day worse than it needed to be.

He cautiously entered the food court, finding it seemingly free of the zombies plaguing it earlier, yet still finding himself on edge as he crept towards the stairs leading to the inner food court. It was deathly silent and he was tempted to call out for Brad, wanting to make sure his trip was not in vain. Before his foot could touch the bottom step he suddenly noticed a shadow in one of the windows of the 'Wild Range' exterior setup and heard the clicking of a gun.

"Shit," Chuck hissed as he quickly bolted away, a volley of submachine gun fire following him until he dove for cover behind a partition. The motocross champion reached for his gun and listened for any additional movement as he crept towards the corner, peeking his head out only to be sent scurrying backwards as another volley of automatic fire pelted away at the wooden surface.

Gunfire came from his left and Chuck looked over to see Brad firing a few shots before ducking for cover behind the railing in front of Chris' Fine Foods. When he looked over to see the blond-haired man he could only shake his head in disgust. The former racer made a mad dash and joined him behind the railing.

"Your uh...girlfriend sent me to find you," Chuck spoke as agent reloaded his gun.

"Who, Jessie? Dammit! OK, we'll have to talk about this later. You know how to use that gun?" he demanded with a white knuckle grip on his own firearm.

"I've never fired at a person!" Chuck shot back, "At least not a living person," he muttered under his breath.

Brad sighed heavily before replying, "Alright, I'll cover you from here. You need to stick to the shadows. Try to get close to the target, okay?"

"And what am I supposed to do when I get close?" Chuck asked just as Brad popped out to fire a few more shots at their attacker.

"Well the best solution would be to shoot the guy, but if you can't do that keep him busy dodging your bullets and stay out of trouble. Are you up to it?" Brad asked looking directly into his eyes.

"I'm a lot better with a motorbike, but yeah, I'll give it a shot," the former champ replied, shrugging his shoulders as he found himself talked into another situation there was no backing out of.

"Alright, next time he reloads. I'll lay down a suppressing fire. I'm counting on you. Make your way over there," Brad said motioning towards the stairs at the far left-hand side of the room near Teresa's Oven.

"1...2...3!" Brad shouted before stepping out from behind the railing and opening fire.

The gunman focused his attention on Brad while Chuck ran to the side stairwell without incident and raised his gun, the shooter ducking out of the way and his bullets whizzing harmlessly past the man's head. Undeterred he ran into the dining area and raised his gun to fire again and it was there he finally got a good look at their attacker.

"I see we meet again, my friend," the shooter called out in his thick Latin accent.

It was the same creepy man from the rooftop and he had him locked in the sights of his FN P90.

Chuck rolled out of the way as the man's armor-piercing rounds tore through one of the tables near him before pulling out a grenade and tossing it in his direction.

"Dammit," the former motocross champ grunted as he vaulted over the front counter of the Frozen Dreams ice cream stand to avoid the blast, landing hard on his side.

"I'm gonna enjoy killing this fruitcake," he muttered using the counter to pull himself back to his feet, _"Jesus Chuck, now you're starting to talk like a psychopath."_

He looked up to see the man running back and forth between cover, still exchanging gunfire with Brad, a spray of crimson seen as the man was hit. Chuck pulled himself over the counter and fired off a few rounds at the shooter, one of his shots hitting the man.

"You're finished!" the man shouted stopping to fire another salvo of hot lead, one of his rounds catching Chuck in the side and sending him staggering. He reached for another one of his grenades and tossed it in the champ's direction, sending him ducking into Teresa's Oven for cover.

Chuck was still smarting from the gunshot and as he had leaped behind the counter he knocked over one of the cardboard boxes, finding an uncooked pizza inside.

"I'll be saving you for later," he said scooping the pizza up. Chugging down the coffee creamer given to him by Otis he could feel his health fully restored. Before making his way back into the open he noticed a box of baking ingredients and scooped that up as well, a plan developing in his head.

He made his way back into the open to find the man standing atop Central Tacos exchanging gunfire with Brad. While the two continued their back and forth battle Chuck rounded the exterior wall and used a table to steady himself before climbing to the gunman's level.

The nameless man took notice and fired upon Chuck, who ran along the upper catwalk returning fire until his gun clicked empty. Discarding the emptied pistol he pulled out the baking ingredients and tossed them into the man's face, temporarily blinding him. His opponent temporarily subdued, he pulled the Defiler and gave him a hard strike with the blunt portion and knocking him backwards.

"You'll pay for that!" the man cried pushing himself back to his feet and delivering a roundhouse kick that knocked Chuck backwards and sent him crashing through another wooden table.

The former champ's entire world shook all around him and once again he felt a crippling pain surge throughout his body. Yet as it always was, his indomitable will would not allow him to stay down writhing in pain and within seconds he was back on his feet, struggling to steady both his feet and his vision as he watched Brad continuing to shoot it out with the madman. Finding himself near Frozen Dreams again, Chuck notice of a milk carton and scooped it up, downing the liquid in one huge gulp. Looking down he also noticed some boxes of those ice pops Katey liked and grabbed them for her.

"You're all going to die!" the gunman shouted to Brad as he forced him into cover behind one of the main dining area's walls and was reaching for another one of his grenades.

"Not if I can help it!" Chuck shouted running over to Meaty's Burgers and grabbing a container of cooking oil and mustering all of his strength, chucked it at the man and caused him to drop his grenade, the explosive detonating at his feet.

Wounded, but not out of the fight, the gunman ran towards a rope hanging from the rafters and grabbed onto it. With a tug the rope pulled him up and out of sight.

"He got away," Chuck exclaimed catching his breath, "Who was that, anyway?"

"I don't know. Well, thanks for your help. The name's Brad," the bald man said formally introducing himself.

"I'm Chuck Greene, former motocross champ, and right now I'd rather have an explanation than your thanks Brad," he shot back.

Brad shook his head.

"Sorry, I've got nothing to tell you. Look, I don't know what Jessie told you, but as far as I'm concerned we're through working together. You go do whatever you have to and leave the rest to us," the man spoke with a dismissive wave.

"Typically government stooge. Always looking to keep the people in the dark," a familiar feminine voice called out.

Chuck and Brad both turned to find Rebecca Chang approaching them with her camera in hand.

"Well I've got enough footage recorded on here there will be no way you and your P.R. people can spin your way out of this. You might as well come clean," the reporter spoke in her boastful tone.

"Turn that damn thing off!" Brad shouted reaching angrily for her camera.

"I don't think he's gonna talk. Might as well go digging elsewhere," Chuck spoke up shaking his head.

A sly smile crossed Rebecca's features, "You obviously don't know your way around these people very well, do you Mr. Greene? You know what they want to know and you'll have them singing like the birds."

She then returned her attention to Brad, "You guys are looking for someone here, aren't you?"

The reporter held up her camera and rewound the footage back to their time in the Entrance Plaza, stopping when she came to the mysterious old man. When he saw the picture Brad froze in place.

"Who is that? Where did you take that?" he demanded reaching for the camera.

"You help me. I help you," Rebecca said drawing her arm back and shaking the camera threatening to drop it.

The agent was backed into a corner.

"Damn!" he bitterly spat walking away in disgust only to stop himself and turn abruptly.

"You're one hell of a journalist, aren't you Ms. Chang?" he said pointing at the woman, "A boisterous, loudmouthed, hotshot paparazzo with nothing better to do than to go around sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," he said getting in her face.

"What can I say? I try," she said smiling demurely, "You have a point?"

Brad sighed in defeat, "You win, both of you. Let's work together."

He took a deep breath before speaking, "Jessie and I are D.H.S. agents and yes, we're looking for the man in that picture."

"You're with homeland security? Is that guy a terrorist or something?" Chuck asked.

"We believe he might know something related to...unscrupulous activities," Brad replied.

"I recorded that footage in the Entrance Plaza. Right near the front door, some place called Everyone Luvs Books," Rebecca spoke.

"The Entrance Plaza? You're sure?" the agent asked.

"Plain as day," Rebecca said switching her camera off, "So, do I have your permission to cover this story...or not?" she asked with a playful pout.

"Ugh, fine. C'mon. We have to see if he's still there," Brad said leading the way.

Chuck and Rebecca both followed from a safe distance and it was then he looked over to the woman, "Surprised you decided to drop in here of all places. You're gonna have to tell me if you've been digging up anything else around here."

"There really isn't much else at this point aside from a bunch of zombies running around, but like the classic saying goes, you never judge a book by its cover," she said before leaning closer to him, "I seriously think we could be sitting on top of something major here and the zombies are only the tip of the iceberg. I don't know what, but there is something else lurking in the shadows here. If we can get to it, maybe we can find the cause of this entire outbreak."

"Would be worth finding out if it can prevent any other shit like this from going down in the future," Chuck replied.

The thought made Chuck pale. What if it was possible that some of those zombies could have made their way outside the confines of Willamette? With the way the 'virus,' or whatever it was, spread like wildfire he seriously began to wonder what would happen if this spread to larger cities like New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Las Vegas...the possibilities left the former motocross champion's stomach tightening.

_"Hopefully we can find out whatever is causing this shit and make sure it doesn't get any further. It's bad enough one small mountain community has to put up with this, but an entire country? Damn," _he thought to himself as he and Rebecca approached the doors leading to the Al Fresca Plaza, where Brad had already drawn his gun and was gunning down several zombies.

"Not exactly my idea of a romantic evening," Rebecca quipped drawing her handgun.

"Unless you find being covered in zombie brains to be romantic," Chuck replied pulling out the Defiler and readying himself for battle.

XXXXX

Author's Note: And hot damn I do it yet again! As Chuck Greene once said to a burning Leon Bell, "Yeah, you're on fire."

Normally I wouldn't do this with one of my stories, but I actually did find myself getting a bit "cartoonish" with this battle in the sense of how Chuck can still battle on after being shot and thrown through a table. I hope that doesn't put off some of my readers, but then again I view this as one of my 'funner' projects, well that is if you consider a game filled with zombies and being able to kill them off with all sorts of mundane items to be fun, or being able to pull some MacGyver-type shit with being able to turn a cuddly robotic teddy bear into a killing machine armed with a light machine gun, or being able to rig a goblin mask up so that it can shoot laser beams with just a battery!

After all, I'm sure there are some who would question how a photojournalist can save the world from a zombie apocalypse, or be able to suddenly learn wrestling moves at the drop of a hat, or be able to take a round from a sniper rifle, be hacked with a machete, run over by a grocery cart fitted with sharp objects or be smacked by a flying bovine carcass and still walk away alive (and actually _walk_ away) in the end, yet Brad and Carlito actually show damage when they are shot or stabbed in a cinematic sequence.

So yeah, try not to think too much of it if you see Chuck managed to survive worse in future chapters.

Well I think that's everything so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	7. The Doctor is Out

Chapter 7: The Doctor is Out

"Sir, if you would just kindly come with us, we can wrap this whole thing up," Brad spoke in his most professional tone possible, only to be met with angry resistance.

"No, I'm not leaving until you can guarantee me safe passage through these..." the old man protested until he was again cut off by Brad.

"Just open the gate. It's for your own protection," Brad replied, his tone remaining concrete.

"I am not opening any gate, thank you very much! I'm going to stay right here where it's safe! Thank you and goodbye!" the odd old man shouted before walking away.

"Dr...Dr. Barnaby, sir! Dr. Barnaby?" Brad called out.

"Goodbye!" Dr. Barnaby said one last time before walking deeper into the store and out of sight.

Brad sighed heavily and returned his attention to his companions, both of whom waited patiently nearby.

"Well, what happened? You can't just arrest him?" Chuck asked taking his hands off his hips while Rebecca sat on a nearby bench.

"He turned down my offer to protect him! Said he isn't going anywhere until I can guarantee a secure route out of here. Jessie has a direct line to HQ. The first thing we need to do is call for backup," Brad said walking over to them only for Rebecca to suddenly stand up.

"Well, I'm not gonna sit around and wait for answers from some uncooperative old coot. The clock is ticking. One thing you learn with big scoops like this is that there's always a secondary source," she said checking to see how many bullets were left in her gun. "I saw a security substation over in Redfield Plaza. Maybe there is something there that can tell me," she said running off.

Brad raised a hand to protest, but was cut off by Chuck.

"I'll go with her," he said chasing after the woman. "Just get back and get in touch with HQ!"

Chuck rounded the corner towards the Al Fresca entrance just in time to see Rebecca engaging several of the zombies, one of whom had been pushing a dolly with a gas canister chained to it. He looked down to find a discarded handgun lying near an overturned metal trashcan and scooped it up to find there were still a few bullets left in the clip.

"Rebecca, look out!" he shouted taking aim at the canister.

The reporter took note of his intentions and ran away from the horde, just as the biker took aim and fired a round that struck the canister head on, resulting in a detonation that sent most of the zombies flying backwards, some splattering against the nearby wall.

"Thanks. Now come on!" Rebecca said making her way around the charred carcasses and managing to avoid the few stragglers to reach the doors.

It would be evening soon and it seemed as if the zombies were becoming more aggressive as dusk approached, their senses seeming to sharpen and their speed increasing as the reporter drew near, prompting Chuck to scoop up a nearby parasol.

"Get behind me," he ordered, the opened umbrella protecting most of the former champion's body as he charged full speed through the throng of zombies, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake. He continued until the wooden support beam finally cracked under the pressure and he discarded the bloodied sunshade as they reached the fountain.

"Quick, climb in," he ordered.

"Are you serious?" Rebecca asked.

"It'll leave a barrier between us and them," he said pulling out his spiked bat, only to stop himself when he noticed another 'gift' lying in the center.

"Score!" he triumphantly called out eagerly scooping up the newly-acquired submachine gun, yet deciding he would conserve the ammo for an emergency. Rebecca was next to him firing away at the approaching monsters, her shots drawing in more of those freaks. He honestly doubted she would listen if he told her to stop so he ran up and swung away at the encroaching rotting bags of bones, knocking several backwards at a time with each swing, "Quick! Run!"

The assertive reporter surprisingly did as she was told, pulling herself out of the fountain and rushing towards the food court entrance with the ex-motocross champ in tow, a few more zombies falling with their skulls split open before his bat finally broke in half.

"God dammit," he grunted pulling himself through one of the doors. _"Oh well, I'll have to get me another one of those. It served me well."_

There were more zombies loitering about in the food court, yet they were mercifully far enough away for Chuck and Rebecca to pass through unmolested. Wonderland Plaza was a different story.

_"Back to where all this shit started," _Chuck thought swallowing hard.

Most of the floor was still littered with the chewed up corpses from the massacre earlier in the day, all of them in various states of cannibalization, some of whom were still being feasted upon. Most of the victims had reanimated, a sight which made the former racer's stomach do a triple somersault and he ran over to the nearest trashcan to empty his lunch.

"Chuck, are you alright?" Rebecca asked running up behind him, watching his back with her gun trained on any zombies.

He was unable to reply for several seconds until he was positive he was done and let out one last bitter gag.

"No," he replied darkly.

He looked at the zombies stumbling about before him, all people who had been there earlier to witness the very show Katey had talked him into. They were once people with jobs, families, hopes, dreams, emotions...now they were just empty shells driven by pure instinct.

_"What if I end up becoming like them?" _the voice inside his head asked.

"No," he whispered shaking his head violently to get those thoughts out of his head, "I _won't_ become like them."

"Chuck? Are you alright?" Rebecca asked looking over her shoulder towards him.

"Never better." It was pure bullshit at its finest but he would say so if it got her off his case. He was cut off by the beeping of his transceiver.

"Hello?" he spoke into it.

_"Chuck, you're in Wonderland Plaza. The most popular attraction there is the 'Space Rider' roller coaster. Be careful around that, okay? It's not a toy!"_ Otis sternly lectured him.

_"Gee thanks Grandpa,"_ he sarcastically thought to himself before speaking, "Alright, thanks for that tidbit. _"He called me for that? That little tidbit of all things? Next time it had better be damn important when he's gotta call me like that."_

"Ready to go?" Rebecca asked.

"Right," Chuck said picking up a metal trashcan and chucking it at a nearby zombie, a bag of potato chips hidden behind it that he would scoop up If necessary. The loud metallic clatter of the garbage can had drawn the attention of a few nearby zombies and he drew his tomahawk, "Alright, let's go!"

Rebecca took point managing to drop three zombies with carefully placed shots to their rotting craniums while Chuck hacked the arm off of an undead construction worker before burying his blade in the man's neck. He then encountered a zombified police officer who still clutched a gun in his hand, bringing the blade down onto the crown of his skull before pulling the man's nightstick off his person, discarding the tomahawk when it had proven relatively weak.

"Police brutality, coming right up!" Chuck said swinging his newly-acquired nightstick into the face of another zombie before rushing over to club the head in of a monster sneaking up on Rebecca.

"Thanks, I owe you one!" she shouted back as they passed the large inflatable pink rabbit and rushed towards the flight of stairs that would take them to the aforementioned Redfield Plaza.

"Almost there," Rebecca called out just before firing a point blank shot into the face of a backpack-wearing woman.

Chuck was lagging quite a ways behind as he struggled to make his way around the Beautification kiosk, scooping up a large potted plant nearby and tossing it into the face of a particularly obese zombie before shoulder butting him to the ground and running over to met the reporter.

"Done having your fun yet?" she asked narrowing her dark eyes at him.

"Sure," he sarcastically replied as they climbed the stairs to their next destination.

As soon as they entered the Redfield Plaza, Chuck's transceiver began beeping again.

"What now?" he grunted pulling it out of his pocket and speaking, "What's up Otis?"

_"Okay, you are now entering the Redfield Plaza. It's our largest plaza here. There's a gun shop if you're looking to stock up and a pharmacy if you need medical supplies. You might wanna check them out,"_ the janitor spoke.

_"Something actually useful for once," _Chuck thought to himself before speaking, "Alright, thanks."

"He must really like talking to you," Rebecca spoke.

"You don't know the half of it," Chuck replied as he happened across a cardboard cutout that stood out to him, one of current motocross champion Leon Bell, advertising a meet and greet session over at Auto-Worx that was now likely canceled thanks to the zombie outbreak.

Indeed Redfield Plaza had been the largest plaza he had visited thus far, standing three stories tall and octagonal in shape with what looked to be some miniature botanical garden as its centerpiece complete with palm trees, miniature waterfall and more flamingo statues than he would have liked. Aside from the faux tropical oasis, the plaza was the typical assortment of clothing boutiques, bookstores, and restaurants in addition to the aforementioned gun store and pharmacy, plus a video arcade that made the teenager inside of him take notice.

"Alright, it's over there!" Rebecca called pointing in the westward direction towards a red door nestled between the Wave of Style beauty salon and Cindy's Dry Cleaning.

"Ladies first," Chuck said pulling one of the plastic flamingos out of the grass and driving it into the eye socket of an armless woman, ending her suffering once and for all as the duo made their way across a narrow walkway towards the office.

"See if it's unlocked," she instructed.

Chuck nodded and reached for the doorknob, giving it a few tugs to no ado.

"Here...let me try," the reporter spoke nonchalantly.

"Don't bother – it's locked," the former champ spoke.

Rebecca reached into her pocket and pulled out a lock pick, working with practiced precision even as the moans of zombies called out from the distance.

"You've got some interesting...skills, for a reporter," Chuck remarked as the view gave him a glimpse of her perfectly rounded buttocks.

"No one ever got an award by playing by the rules, Chuck," she replied, the door clicking open a second later and her stepping aside to let him enter first.

The duo entered the security substation to find it ransacked.

Computer consoles had been smashed, most of the monitors were shot out and those still active displayed only static, and worse, three guards lay motionless on the floor before them, all of their bodies riddled with bullets.

"What the hell?" Chuck asked taking in the massacre before him

"Wow, looks like somebody doesn't want us finding something out." Rebecca asked walking further into the room.

Chuck walked over to a nearby desk and picked up the splintered remnants of a computer's motherboard. "Dammit! There's nothing here that we can use."

"But who could it be?" Rebecca asked switching her camera on and hovering over the dead men, a sight that unnerved Chuck, making him think of that psychotic photojournalist from Paradise Plaza.

The former motocross racer knelt down and scooped up a handful of spent bullet casings, "I think I might have an idea. These look like the same rounds that creep from the food court was using."

Rebecca suddenly snapped her fingers, "I remember Dr. Barnaby saying something about someone sending for him. Do you think those two could be related somehow?"

"I don't know and I honestly don't think either one of them is gonna be willing to sit down and offer you an exclusive interview," Chuck bitterly spat letting the metal casings fall to the floor. "We might as well get back to Jessie and Brad. Everything's been destroyed. We don't a reason to hang around here any longer."

"Are you always so quick to jump to conclusions?" Rebecca asked cocking an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

The reporter reached beneath one of the bodies and pulled out a memory card.

"Maybe this could be what our shooter was looking for. It might be able to tell us something about this mess," Rebecca said pocketing the card.

"We need to get that back to Jessie right away. Maybe there's something she can do about it," Chuck said making his way for the exit.

Chuck's transceiver started beeping again and he picked it up, "What's up Otis?"

_"Hey Chuck, you're still over in the Redfield Plaza, right? There's a couple fellas holed up in the Wild West Grill House. You might wanna give 'em a hand when you get the chance," _the janitor spoke.

Chuck looked over to Rebecca, who was now reclining on one of the consoles reviewing her gathered footage, "Go ahead and play your hero game. I'm a grown woman and I can handle myself. I'll meet you back at the security office."

He was tempted to say something back, but knew of her fierce independent streak and shrugged his shoulders before reentering the plaza.

There was a store directory nearby and the aforementioned restaurant was on the third floor. He was hopeful there would be time to make it up there and help the people up there as he looked over and saw the High-Noon Shooting Range located next to the Auto-Worx Otis had told him about earlier. If he was going to help anybody he would need to be stocked up.

Pulling out his knife gloves the ex-motocross champ ran towards the shop, stopping to cut down a few ghouls that had stepped into his path in typical gory fashion before he was pulling himself through the front entrance.

As he expected, most of the store's inventory had been cleared out by desperate survivors but he did manage to find a shotgun and scrounge up a whole shit ton of shells for it, as well as some much needed bullets for his sidearm. In addition to the weapons he also found both a S.W.A.T. outfit and helmet, changing into the tactical gear in hopes it would offer greater protection against the zombies and enable him to carry more ammo.

"Showtime" Chuck said exiting the gun store, only to be halted when he could hear strange noises coming from the nearby Beach Body Swim House swimwear shop. "What the hell?"

He dodged his way past more zombies and made his way into an empty store, hearing the noises coming from the back, which sounded like muffled cries combined with someone pounding on a glass surface. There was no way to tell if one of those freaks had somehow made their way into here, but he needed to be certain and crept along with the shotgun raised.

The narrow hallway at the back led him to a small space filled with tanning booths, one of which was still shut with the lights on, the source of the sounds.

Chuck ran over and opened the booth and no sooner than he did, a bikini-clad woman came tumbling out, every inch of her exposed skin badly sunburned from overexposure to the tanning lamps.

"Lady, are you alright?" he asked kneeling down beside the woman, not wanting to touch her and further aggravate her massive burn.

"Please, please help me," she pleaded looking up to him, "I was stuck in that tanning bed. The staff ran away or something...oh god, I'm so parched. I can barely move," she whimpered.

"I'll say. You're baked," Chuck said looking her over, "Literally."

"This can't be good for my tan lines," she muttered, annoying the former champ who thought she should be more thankful she's even alive period. "What's going on out there?" she asked hearing the noises.

Chuck looked at the woman hard before returning his attention towards the front of the store, "You're not going to believe me if I tell you, but there's been a zombie outbreak."

Her dark eyes widened in horror and she opened her mouth to reply, only to be cut off by Chuck. "Listen, I can take you somewhere safe. You just have to trust me."

"Oh, I'm so thirsty. I can barely move. Please, do you have anything to drink?" she asked.

Chuck was about to shake his head, when he suddenly snapped his fingers, remembering some water bottles on the front counter. "Hold on one second. Just stay here and don't make too much noise."

The racer made his way back to the front of the store to find one of the zombies had made its way inside. Finding an ornamental tiki torch nearby he scooped it up and impaled the rotting man through the skull, hoping none of his buddies would be quick to follow. Finding a water bottle on the counter he grabbed it and ran back to the sunburned woman.

"Oh, thank you so much! I was feeling like a raisin there for a moment," she said eagerly accepting the bottle and guzzling down the contents.

"Alright, well I'm gonna get you out of here, but first there are some other people I have to help out. My name is Chuck by the way," he said lifting the woman into his arms and taking her out of the swimwear store.

"I'm Linette," she replied looking around and wincing when she saw all of the zombies staggering about, "and I thought the bad service was the most of my worries,"

"Looks like you were wrong," Chuck said dodging another horde and making his way over to the escalator that took him to the second floor and immediately to the other that would take him to the third floor.

It wasn't long before the duo was coming to the Wild West Grill House, which almost looked like an Old Western-style saloon from the outside. He could hear the feral snarls of zombies from within, followed by a volley of gunshots.

"Get the fuck away you rotting fucking freaks!" he heard a man's voice calling out.

"Be quiet," Chuck whispered to the woman, who only squeezed him tighter upon hearing the small explosions from within.

The restaurant's carpeted floor was littered with zombie corpses, most of whom had fallen thanks to either gunshots or having their skulls bashed in. There were still more undead moans and shots coming from the back. It gave Chuck a bad feeling and he let go of Linette and sat her down in one of the gaudy cow-patterned booths.

"Wait here. I'll be back for you," he said pulling out his shotgun and creeping towards the back where the full bar was located.

Taking cover behind a wooden partition he was drawing closer to the scene of battle, jumping backwards as a zombie fell before him with its face obliterated.

"Don't just stand there! I'm getting low on ammo. Help me kill these things god dammit!" the same man shouted.

"But there's too many of them!" a panicked voice shouted back.

Chuck peeked his head around the corner to see two men barricaded behind the bar, one a pudgy man in a Denver Gold basketball jersey armed with a baseball bat and the other a heavily-tattooed fellow wearing a dark tanktop advertising the British Gothic rock group Angel Lust, the one carrying the pistol. There was a mass of corpses blanketing the floor in front of them, the last zombie falling compliments of a round between the eyes.

"Is that all of them?" the pudgy man whimpered.

"No, we've got one more!" the pistol-toting man shouted taking notice of Chuck and firing a round his way, forcing the former champ back into hiding.

"Don't shoot! I'm not one of them!" Chuck shouted.

"Well if you're not one of those brain eating zombies, you're one of those hooded bastards looking to take us for everything we got!" the gunman called back. "Why don't you come on out and we can end this!"

"I'm not here to rob you. I know of a safe place and I can take you there," Chuck shouted.

"Yeah right, and how do we know you're not gonna stab us in the back when we get to this 'safe place' of yours, pal?" the shooter retorted.

"Look, I'm dropping my guns now. I'm gonna step out into the open and we're going to chat man to man," Chuck replied. It was a risky move, but he needed to show these men he wasn't a hostile and he tossed his shotgun, submachine gun and handgun to the floor in plain view. "I'm stepping out now. Don't shoot!"

Placing his hands above his head the former motocross champ walked into the open and came to a halt, making sure he was near the partition in case he needed to dive for cover.

"Alright, here I am. My name is Chuck Greene and I'm here to take you guys to safety," he repeated.

"Holy shit! Wade, that's Chuck Greene, the motocross champ!" the pudgy man blurted out.

In spite of the tense standoff the former champ couldn't help but chuckle, "Glad to see one of my fans is still alive. Listen to me, I'm here to help. There is a security office in the Paradise Plaza I can take you to if you're willing to cooperate."

The gunman called Wade still regarded him with great suspicion, whereas his friend lowered his bat and stared eagerly towards him, "C'mon Wade, he seems legit. We should follow him. It's better than being constantly on the run."

Wade kept his eyes locked on Chuck before he took a deep breath, "Alright, we'll follow you. You try anything funny, don't think for one second I won't do to you what I did to those zombies."

"You have my word," Chuck replied and he waited for both men to step out from behind the bar before reaching down to reclaim his guns.

"Um, Mr. Greene, when we get some free time do you think maybe I could get an autograph? Make it out to Skylar," the pudgy man spoke.

"I'll definitely hold you to that," Chuck smiled leading the men back into the restaurant where Linette still waited for them. "Alright, let's get moving," he said scooping the bikini-clad woman into his arms.

The quartet made their way back into the open, Wade gunning down any zombies who shambled into his sights and Skylar striking down a few that had gotten close to him, albeit with great hesitation. They had descended the escalator to the second floor and were about to make their way down to the first when another man's voice suddenly called out.

"Somebody there! Help! Help please!"

"That came from over there," Wade said pointing over to the In the Closet skater-themed men's clothing store.

Chuck nodded and motioned for his companions to follow after him. He made his way behind the counter and set Linette down before turning to the two armed men, "You two, stand guard!"

Vaulting over the counter he made his way to the back storage room and ran in to find an overweight bespectacled man in a dark red striped shirt and green baseball cap trapped behind a large stack of cardboard boxes.

"Hold on just a second, sir," Chuck said and with a mighty heave proceeded to clear out the stack of heavy boxes, liberating the portly man.

"Whoo! Whatta relief to finally get out! I owe you one! I was just trying to get the place arranged when the whole pile came down on me. I've been trapped in here all day. The mall's open today right? It's not a holiday. I wonder why no one passed by until now..." he said looking around, the employee's name tag identifying him as 'Bill.'

"You were stuck in here all day? You haven't had contact with anyone?" Chuck asked listening intently for any sounds from outside.

"Yeah, unbelievable isn't it?" Bill replied, "I've lost a lot of weight, but it was no picnic. Well, I guess I'll just head home then. I mean the company owes me one right? They won't care if I knock it off a bit early. Thanks a lot man! See you around!"

Before Chuck could raise a hand in protest the big man was running out of the closet and letting out a blood-curdling shriek a second later.

"What the hell's going on out there?!" he shouted upon sighting the zombies for the very first time, who were drawn in by the fresh meat.

"Wow, you have been hiding under a rock," Wade commented raising his gun to put down another undead pest.

"I'm afraid we've got a zombie problem," Chuck replied pulling out his shotgun and blasting the head off another approaching monster.

"So much for goin' home," Bill sighed.

"Come back to the security room with us. It is a good place to relax for a while," Chuck replied blasting another zombie in half before reaching down to pick up Linette.

"Whatever you say, kind sir," Bill replied.

"Thank me later," Chuck spoke leading the quartet back into the plaza and making his way for the nearest exit.

XXXXX

The cheery electronic _'ding' _filled the air and with it the quintet emerged from the elevator, all of them stopping to catch their breath following an arduous journey back to the Paradise Plaza plagued by several close calls.

"Damn, this is all just too damn unreal," Wade said slinking against a nearby wall and letting his nearly emptied gun clatter from his hand.

"I can't believe this. How could there be such a thing as zombies?" Bill gasped, getting more exercise than he had anticipated on the run back.

"We'll have to worry about that later. For now just c'mon," Chuck said scooping Linette back up and leading them over to the vent.

Following yet another cramped commute the survivors emerged and were overjoyed to find other human beings still alive.

"You're so sweet," Linette said throwing her arms around Chuck before stepping back a second later, "I don't suppose you have any aloe?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Just worry about staying alive for now," Chuck said reaching over and grabbing a pen and piece of paper, giving Skylar Ali his promised autograph.

"Thanks a million, dude! I can't believe I got to meet THE Chuck Greene!" Skylar said pumping his fist triumphantly in the air.

"It was my pleasure," Chuck said before making his way into the office, where Brad, Jessie and Rebecca had all congregated.

"Hmmm. So that's what Dr. Barnaby said, huh?" Jessie asked leaning back in her swivel chair.

"The old coot's not dumb. He wants us to call for help first. We got a line out, or what?" Brad asked uncrossing his arms and walking up behind his partner.

Jessie turned to check her laptop, typing in a few commands before grunting in frustration.

"Ugh! The signal's being blocked...I can't even contact HQ on the emergency line," she sighed rubbing her aching temples.

"I'm not getting any reception either," Rebecca said checking her cell phone, "No way I can get in touch with my station. There goes my option. They'd come get me – hell, they'd come get everyone," she said looking over to Chuck, remembering what he had said earlier in the day, but wondering if he was still blowing smoke or not.

"So, if we want to get our hands on Dr. Barnaby, we're gonna have to secure a way out of here ourselves," Brad said scratching the back of his neck, "Alright, we've gotta deal with the situation we've been handed. The boneheads back at HQ might be workin' on something too," he said walking towards the door.

"There's a helicopter comin'. Three days from now...at noon. It's my ride," Chuck spoke up, inviting suspicious stares from Brad and Jessie, while Rebecca still seemed to regard him with skepticism.

"Is your ride reliable?" Brad asked.

"Absolutely. That's how I plan on getting outta here," Chuck spoke as Rebecca crossed her arms.

"Like some middle of nowhere charter pilot is going to be that dependable, especially if he's making you wait for three freaking days," the reporter said rolling her eyes.

"Hey, Ed's a good guy! We watch each others' backs. I know he'll pull through for me," Chuck shot back.

Brad ignored the spat and stayed focused on Chuck, "Alright then. I'll see to it that the D.H.S. picks up the charter fee. Can we take Dr. Barnaby as well?"

"Sure...as long as you tell us what's going on," he said looking over to Rebecca.

"Okay. I'll tell you what you want to know...later. We have more pressing business right now. If we have to wait here for 3 days, we'll need supplies. Uh, water, blankets and the like. We'll get Dr. Barnaby here tomorrow morning," Brad spoke before looking to Jessie and pointing, "I want you to keep an eye on the monitors."

Brad then turned his attention to Chuck, "You've been doing pretty good thus far. See what you can round up for us."

"You got it," Chuck nodded just as Rebecca cleared her throat.

Brad then turned his attention to her and narrowed his eyes, "And I want you to stay out of trouble. I don't want no civilian going around losing her head over some story."

"Whatever," Rebecca spat taking out her camera and reviewing her gathered footage.

"There's one thing I need to do quick," Chuck said to Brad before making his way through the nearby door.

Chuck stepped into a hallway with entrances leading to five different colored doors (green, blue, purple, yellow and red respectively), a unisex restroom and a stairwell leading to the heliport. He could hear the survivors chatting amongst themselves in the rooms, all seeming to do whatever they could to hold their heads through this ordeal. Eventually he turned a corner to find a green couch where Katey was sitting, again playing her Joy Boy 2000. The young girl looked up to see her father approaching and immediately stopped everything she was doing to run over and give him a big hug.

"Hi sweetie, how are you doing?" he asked holding his daughter tightly, never wanting to let her go.

"Doing great Daddy. I know you've told me not to take candy from strangers, but Mrs. Meyer really wanted me to have it," the 8 year old said reaching into her pocket and pulling out a few gumballs. "She is very nice and so is Mr. Meyer."

Chuck smiled as he sat down on the couch next to her, "I'm glad to hear you are doing alright. I know this has been a difficult time, but please know that I am doing everything I can for your own safety."

"I don't like you going out there and being around all those bad people, but I know you're doing it for all of us. I have the best daddy in the world," Katey replied, her blue eyes beaming brightly.

The words warmed his heart and for a few seconds, the troubles all around him melted away. It relieved him he was still capable of feeling such emotion after being surrounded by so much death and destruction within the span of the past few hours. There was still beauty left in the world and he was holding it in his arms.

"You're right and Daddy is going to make sure you and everybody else makes it out of this alive," Chuck said pulling away.

"Pinky promise?" she asked extending her pinky finger to him.

"Pinky promise," he replied returning the gesture.

XXXXX

Author's Note: I'm proud of myself here because I finally got to write a LONGER chapter for once.

The Redfield Plaza is an original touch inspired by that amusement park added in "Off the Record." Yes, it is named after Chris Redfield from the "Resident Evil" series. Most of the shops are inspired by locations from DR2. The In the Closet here is inspired by the store's design from DR2, which I included as a means of modifying the rescue sequence with Bill Brenton.

For survivors rescued in this chapter:

**Linette Watkins, 24**

**Skylar Ali, 26**

**Wade Coopwood, 32**

**Bill Brenton, 39 **

Well I think that's everything so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	8. Psychopaths Galore

Author's Note: I forgot to mention in the last author's note that the Denver Gold are meant to be a spoof of the Denver Nuggets.

Chapter 8: Psychopaths Galore

Night was falling, the bell tolling to signal the new hour.

For the former citizens of Willamette, Colorado lumbering about on the mall's grounds, another kind of change was brewing, one that would turn them from their formerly docile, yet still deadly shells, into something much more sinister and ravenous.

With the tolling of the bell, one particular citizen shambled about until he came to a sudden halt and he began convulsing violently. When the seizure concluded, his once milky eyes opened to reveal glowing red orbs...straight from the bowels of a man-made hell.

When the tolling concluded his undead brethren joined him, their glowing red eyes illuminating the darkness around them.

XXXXX

Chuck now stood at the doors leading to Leisure Park, having barely avoided the swarms of zombies still loitering about in Paradise Plaza.

Night was fast approaching and he had a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't pinpoint the cause, but he had a dread feeling something was about to change for the worse and the darkening sky only added to the tension as he struggled to keep himself focused.

"C'mon Chuck, no time to chicken out," he whispered to himself holding his shotgun in clammy hands.

His objective was to reach the under construction North Plaza, where Otis had informed him of the presence of another gun shop called the Huntin' Shack, as well as both a supermarket, home center and cutlery shop, all of which could have much needed supplies. As it was anywhere in this accursed shithole, the place was bound to be crawling from top to bottom with more of those zombies.

But for some reason things started to feel different.

Pumping the shotgun, Chuck edged the door open and right away he felt the ball of ice within the pit of his stomach explode, sending a fresh chill coursing throughout his body.

The zombies. All of them, their eyes were now glowing blood red.

Chuck looked over to the clock tower in the center of the park to see that it was now just after 7 pm.

"Does the nighttime make them more aggressive?" he wondered aloud, not having much time to ponder as several zombies came rushing towards him.

He raised his shotgun and fired a blast into the chest of the closest zombie before waiting for two more to get close together and dropping them both simultaneously. A skinny woman approached and she would find herself split in half by a blast to the abdomen, her upper torso still clawing towards the former motocross champ before he finished her off with a curb stomp. A fourth blast rang out and a knife-carrying zombie's head was obliterated and following a fifth, an undead construction worker was sent flying backwards, taking two of his brethren with him. The sixth and seventh blasts were followed by former citizens of Willamette being torn to bloody shreds and the last blast ended with a man's heart being decimated.

Then the shotgun clicked empty.

"Damn," Chuck muttered as more zombies closed in, attracted by the shotgun's loud blasts.

There was no time to reload. He had to move.

He shoulder tackled his way past two of the zombies and then leaped in the air to drop another with a flying kick, the snarls growing louder in volume as he edged further along, feeling the wind from missed swipes and listening to the tearing of material as those who managed to get close enough tore into his uniform, yet thankfully not into the flesh beneath.

"Not tonight bitches," Chuck grunted pulling out his nightstick and shattering the jaw of a gangly man reaching towards him before spinning around to crack the orbital bone of a once beautiful woman in a tattered party dress. He continued his forward onslaught until he was coming to the steps leading to the North Plaza and it was then the nightstick finally snapped in half. There was no time to reach for his knife gloves or Defiler and he pushed his way through the doors.

The former motocross champ stepped into a plaza mostly under renovation, several of the zombies stumbling into the empty fountain in the center. In the distance he could see an overweight woman still pushing a shopping cart around and not to far from her was another man pushing a propane tank around on a dolly. He was tempted to shoot the tank, but the zombie pushing it wasn't close enough to others, thus resulting in minimal casualties.

"D-Don't just stand there! Kill those th-AAAAHHHH!" an unseen man shrieked, coming from within the Crislip's Home Saloon to his immediate right.

Chuck readied the Defiler and made his way into the hardware store to find another one of those looters being torn apart and nearby another making a futile attempt to fight off the approaching ghouls with just a nail gun before he too fell beneath the mass of decaying flesh. As he looked around the large store he found more clusters of zombies piled around tearing into unseen victims, perhaps more of those looters who had tried to make some kind of last desperate stand.

Unfortunately for Chuck, the zombies had taken notice of him and were beginning to close in.

Raising the Defiler he brought it down vertically onto one zombie, slicing deep into its neck and nearly decapitating it. He then spun around rapidly with the combo weapon extended to knock down several zombies at once and continued slicing and bludgeoning away at a manic pace until the mighty weapon snapped in two at the worst time possible.

"Damn it! Not now!" he grunted aloud as a a blond-haired male managed to close in on him and grasp his shoulders. He brought his boot up to kick the man away, only to find himself tackled to the blood drenched floor by another undead Willamette citizen that was just inches away from tearing out his jugular.

"You people-" he spat while placing his hand beneath the man's chin, "-are really starting-" he said finally moving his hands up and getting a firm grasp on both sides of his head, "-to fucking piss me off!" he screamed and with the psycho power coursing through his veins, managed to snap his aggressor's neck.

Tossing his attacker's corpse aside, the former motocross champ struggled back to his hands and knees in the pool of sticky blood which he lay, more zombies lurching towards him, again nearly losing his balance as he tried to sidestep a swipe from a balding man, using him as a springboard to get himself to a dry spot and landing conveniently next to a chainsaw.

"Time to rock n' roll," he said scooping up the chainsaw and pulling the cord, rewarded with a deafening buzz that had never before ever sounded so beautiful.

He looked up to see more zombies approaching, their eyes glowing like embers straight from the depths of Hell.

"Come and get me!"

The racer swung the chainsaw outward and what followed was a crimson flash as a line of former humans fell before him, followed by another as he spun his body and sliced another ghoul in half. He shot the blade outward and impaled another in a gory spectacle while shoving him backwards into another of his rotting brethren. He eventually sliced the offender in half and began waving the chainsaw's blade around wildly, seeing nothing but a red haze.

By the time the chainsaw had run out of gas Chuck found himself surrounded by a mass of dismembered body parts.

"Bryce Hammill eat your heart out," he chuckled when he heard a moan coming from behind him.

He turned around to find a lone survivor shambling towards him with its remaining arm extended.

"Come to join the party, huh?" he asked looking around for anything he could use to kill the zombie, finding a discarded shower head lying on the floor to his left. Scooping it up he stabbed it into the former human's head and watched passively as blood sprayed out until the monster fell over dead.

Enough fun and games. Chuck looked around the hardware store to see plenty of supplies that would have enabled any other survivors around the city to erect protective barricades within their homes and it made him wonder if a metal door welded shut alone would be enough to hold the zombies at bay, especially when they became more aggressive at nightfall.

There would be plenty of stuff around he could craft some crude combo weapons out of though and he grabbed a shopping cart, going down the aisles and grabbing a few boxes of nails, two power drills, a tin bucket, propane tank, fire ax, another sledgehammer, a pylon, can of spray paint, a saw blade and cement saw. With his little 'shopping spree' complete, he looked over to where another maintenance room awaited and put his plan into motion.

Shoving the over encumbered cart out of the hardware store, he was forced to travel through a patch littered with ample amounts of gore, again finding himself struggling to stay on his feet as he pushed through, having to stop at one point to deliver a haymaker to a zombie that had gotten too close for comfort.

"C'mon dammit," he grunted making his way over to the doors and forcing them open before reaching back to pull the shopping cart through and then shoving the doors shut behind him. There was a chain lying on a nearby shelf he scooped up to shackle the doors shut, listening to the pounding and scratching coming from the other side.

"Should buy me a few minutes at least," he said to himself as he quickly began to empty the cart and get to work.

XXXXX

It had taken Chuck a few minutes longer than expected, but he now had some badass new combo weapons in hand and he was ready to show them off at the zombies' expense.

"Time to do this," he whispered, the shackled double doors shuddering as the relentless zombies threw themselves against them, calling out for their fresh meal.

"Now or never, Chuck," he said pulling out his handgun and firing a round into the padlock and with a loud snap the chains fell to the floor and the zombies came piling in.

With a swing of his newly-crafted Defiler he knocked several zombies back at once before he fired up his drill bucket and slammed it down onto the closest ghoul's skull a torrent of blood spilling out from underneath as the drills shredded the zombie's skull apart.

"That's right, come to me you rotting bastards," he grunted pulling out the air horn he crafted from the pylon and can of spray paint, depressing the trigger and firing a deafening burst that managed to disorient a few of the ghouls while those closest saw their heads exploding immediately. When a path had been cleared through the massive horde he began inching his way through until he spotted a bright red sign with a large white arrow pointing him to the Huntin' Shack down the narrow hall.

"Score," Chuck smirked when he heard another pair of hurried footsteps coming from his left and turned with the air horn raised.

"Whoa man, don't shoot!" cried a brown-haired man in a green shirt with a scorpion design on it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Chuck demanded, stopping to strike down another zombie with his Defiler, "Haven't you seen this place is crawling with the living dead?"

"I-I know man, but listen, I got separated from my group!" the man said looking at the Huntin' Shack sign, "We were trying to score some guns so we could defend ourselves. I heard this is where one of the gun shops was and I figured I'd run into them here!"

"Looks like we both had the same idea," Chuck said swinging the combo weapon to take down another zombie, "I was heading there just now."

"Great! Me too. I'm James by the way," the man said looking hurriedly around.

"Chuck, now come on," the motocross champ said leading the way, swinging the Defiler back and forth to drop a few zombies barring their way through the narrow hallway leading there.

"We're here," Chuck announced as they arrived at the front doors of the Huntin' Shack, a small shop kept away from the others with display windows on both sides showing off the goods within. The place appeared surprisingly untouched, unlike the High Noon Shooting Range over in Redfield Plaza.

"Alright, we should be good then," James said charging past him and making his way through the double doors, only to be halted by the pumping of a shotgun.

"Alright, that's far enough ya' varmint!" a Southern-accented voice called out, the smell of alcohol heavy on the owner's breath and wafting over towards the duo.

"I'm only gonna ask ya' this one time and ya' better be straight with me, boy! Who are ya' and what the hell are ya' doin' here in my store?" the proprietor roared, a tall, hunched over man in a Western-themed shirt with a dark, shaggy beard that made him look like a backwoods mountain man and a fire engine red nose that gave away his self-destructive habit.

"Mister please, we need guns!" James said taking a cautious step towards the towering mountain man.

"Ha! I ain't givin' you nothin'! I seen how you people are, second I give ya' somethin' you're gonna be robbin' me blind!" the man roared, his aim never wavering as Chuck watched helplessly in the background.

"Look mister, if we're gonna fight these zombies we need guns!" James pleaded, only for both of them to nearly jump out of their skin as the cynical proprietor fired a blast into the ceiling.

"Stay back!" he roared, "I trust them damn zombies about as far as I can throw 'em, but I trust people even less!"

"Don't shoot!" James pleaded frantically waving his hands around in front of him, "L-Let's talk this over!"

"You can talk to my 12-gauge," the man said keeping his smoking barrel trained on both men, "Don't get no closer or I'll blow y'all to kingdom come."

Chuck remained quiet in the background until he saw James taking a step forward.

"Hey, hang on."

Too late.

The xenophobic mountain man pumped his shotgun and fired another blast, striking James in the chest and sending him flying through the front doors.

Chuck stood in stunned silence before the big man turned his attention to him with a dark sneer. "Now, goddammit! I warned you...in a situation like this, I can't afford to trust nobody!"

The man again pumped his shotgun, but Chuck reacted quickly and dove for cover behind a display case before he took could be struck by a barrage of buckshot.

"Ya' ain't leavin' this place alive boy! Ya' might as well come out an' we can make it quick!" the deranged redneck shouted firing another barrage his way.

"No reasoning with this yahoo," Chuck grumbled to himself pulling out the submachine gun and sticking his arm around the case firing blindly, the shatter of glass and the splintering of wood following, yet no cries of pain to let him know he had hit the mark.

"Y'all gonna squeal like a pig when I'm done wit' cha!" he shouted back before firing three more times, forced to reload.

It was then Chuck made his move, standing up and firing a barrage that struck the big man three times, yet he only staggered backward.

"Whoo hoo!" the redneck gunman shouted, finding dark humor in being shot as he quickly ducked behind the counter and reloaded his shotgun. "These are my guns!" he declared before firing another barrage in Chuck's direction.

Again the former motocross champ found himself forced to roll out of the way of repeated shotgun blasts, the gun shop owner cackling madly as he fired away.

"Ol' Cletus gonna hang ya' high and skin ya' alive when this all over!" the madman shouted, "That'll teach ya' to come tryin' ta' rob my store!" he shouted firing a barrage which caught Chuck and sent him flying backwards into a display rack.

"Ahh! Geez!" he grunted as he hit the floor with a hard thud. The tactical vest had absorbed most of the blast, yet he could feel the coppery blood beneath his shredded material and it hurt like a bitch with every breath he took.

Still, he had to keep fighting and he reached in to pull out that frozen pizza he had grabbed from the food court. Oh how it sucked so badly he wouldn't have the pleasure of being able to eat an actual cooked pizza, but right now he couldn't afford to be picky and proceeded to scarf the pizza down as quickly as he could.

"Go time," he whispered pushing himself back to his feet and looked up to see the gun shop owner (Cletus apparently his name was) chugging from a wine bottle. Taking advantage of his lapse in judgment Chuck popped up and fired a burst into the drinking proprietor, only seeming to further enrage him.

"I'm gonna kill ya'!" he screamed, enraged at his drink being interrupted and he ran along to the other end of the L-shaped counter hoping to get a better shot at Chuck, who was again forced to barrel roll to the right to avoid another blast and then another as he waited for the deranged redneck to run out of ammo. It was then he closed in on him and struck him hard with the Defiler three times before finally falling to his knees.

"Damn!" the owner gasped collapsing onto the counter. He was beaten down, out of breath and covered in blood, barely alive yet still trying to escape.

"Damn, mister! C'mon now! Wh-What're you, crazy?" the defeated man whined pulling himself along behind whatever cover was available on his counter.

"You want...You want guns so bad...that y'all willin' to kill for 'em?" Cletus whimpered as he staggered out from behind the counter and tripped over his own feet as he pushed himself towards the front doors.

"Lemme go!" he cried wanting to get as far away from his victor as possible.

"Hey!" Chuck called out as the mountain man drew closer to the doors.

"Please!" Cletus bawled one last time.

"Hey, wait!" Chuck shouted a second time but again he was too late.

As the frightened shop owner pushed himself through the double doors he was met by James, now a zombie. The undead man tackled him to the ground and began to devour him, ignoring his final desperate cries as Chuck could only stand by helplessly, keeping his head down not wanting to look at the sickening scene taking place before him.

"Poor bastard," he muttered, finding it darkly ironic that Cletus had killed James, only for him to return the favor after reanimating. The realization left Chuck to wonder.

_"He didn't die from a zombie bite. He was shot. Could it be possible that whatever is affecting these people makes it possible for a person to become a zombie regardless of whether or not they are bitten when they die?"_

It made the former champ freeze in place and begin to shake uncontrollably.

_"Could this...virus be airborne? If so, am I infected? Oh god, could Katey be infected too?"_

Before Chuck could feel his bowels clench any tighter he was interrupted by the ringing from his transceiver. He quickly scooped it up, for once happy to hear from the elderly janitor.

_"Chuck, are you there?" _he called out, _"You're still hanging around the North Plaza, right? There's someone hanging around the record store there. I don't know if it's a guy or a gal, but it's someone who still looks alive. You'd better check 'em out and see what's going on."_

"Will do," Chuck uneasily replied before stuffing the transceiver away.

He took one last look around the shop and saw an empty duffel bag lying behind the counter. Remembering why he was there in the first place he scooped it up and went about his personal mission, gathering a few shotguns, a few handguns and even a scoped hunting rifle, plenty of ammo that could hold his group over for an entire week if necessary. With all the ammo he could carry gathered he made his way back to the entrance, stopping to observe the feast still taking place where James had now moved over to ripping Cletus' face off.

It was a gruesome sight, yet he still stared at the fresh zombie in wonder how he could have become like that despite not being bitten.

_"Maybe he had a scratch I didn't see right away. Maybe it's something in the water. Who the hell knows," _he thought to himself as he could hear more zombies approaching fast, drawn like moths to a flame by the gunfire.

Chuck stared uneasily towards the approaching horde and then quickly looked over his shoulder, the malaise turning to defiance.

_"Well if I'm going to die I might as well make my time left worth something," _he thought to himself before reaching onto the nearby wall and pulling the moose head off, pulling it over his head like a helmet. Getting down into a three point stance like a football player he made his charge, the antlers at the ready as he threw himself into the sea of living dead, goring several of the former Willamette citizens back to death in his wake. When a sizable swath had been cut through the mass he tossed the stuffed animal head aside and readied his Defiler.

"Come get some you bastards!" he screamed before swinging the combo weapon horizontally and sending one of the zombies flying backwards into another.

"You want some more?" he shouted swinging the Defiler sideways again and shattering the bottom half of another zombie's face and then swinging it upward to pulverize a ghoul's head from the bottom up before bringing it down on top of the head of a third. He then spun himself around to take down six charging monsters in one swipe.

The fatigue was beginning to set in though and he was forced to make an abrupt right dodge into a store under construction and make his way down a narrow hallway lined with back doors leading into the shops before he came to the door labeled _'CD Crazy,'_ where another small group of zombies congregated trying to get inside as 80's pop star Bibi Love's single 'Can't Get Enough of Me' piped in over the store's speakers.

_"Of course that lousy racket would be enough to wake the dead," _he thought to himself while trying to remain silent around the hungry dead.

Nevertheless, he needed to get to the bottom of what was happening and decided he would surprise whoever was holed up in that record store. There was a door to his immediately left that led him into an unfinished clothing store, only to find its gate lowered.

In addition, there was a man slumped behind the counter with a submachine gun held in his hands.

Still jumpy following the confrontation with Cletus, Chuck raised his Defiler in preparation to fight as the man looked towards him. He quickly lowered it when he noticed he was clad in full S.W.A.T. gear.

The officer stared silently towards him, almost as if he were looking past him at something that wasn't there.

"Uh, hey! Officer, are you alright?" Chuck asked waving his hand.

The officer did not reply, only looking away in shame before he muttered "They're all dead...all of them."

"Who?" the former champ said keeping his distance, remembering what had happened to James as he tried walking towards Cletus back at the gun shop.

"My friends...my colleagues...the people we swore to protect...they're all dead and gone!" the man shouted, "Everybody is dead," he finished in a weak groan, tears streaming down his face.

"No, they're not," Chuck said walking towards the officer, "There are still survivors. I've found a few and they're holed up back in the security office."

The officer laughed bitterly at his claim, "Ha! Yeah right! Those things are everywhere. I've seen it with my own two eyes. No place is safe from those freaks. It's only a matter of time before they find their way into here."

The defeated man then looked down to his submachine gun, "I've failed my duty to serve and protected the people of this fair town. Well no more. I'm not going to live in shame. I'm done with this shitty world."

The officer took a deep breath and placed the gun's barrel beneath his chin, ready to pull the trigger.

"No! Stop!" Chuck shouted running over and kicking the gun out of the man's hands, "Just stop it!"

There was a tense silence between the two men, interrupted only by their deep breathing. Taking a moment to compose himself the former motocross champion carefully chose his words before speaking.

"Believe me, there are people still alive and we've found a safe place to keep them," Chuck said kneeling down next to the cop, "You're job isn't done. If you come with me you can help protect them. You can have the chance to redeem yourself rather than taking the coward's way out."

Hoping to further emphasize his point Chuck pulled out the transceiver and hit the _'Transmit'_ button, "Otis, I've found a police officer still alive here in the North Plaza. He's gonna be coming with me to help out."

_"Glad to know, kid. We definitely need all the help we can get over here,"_ the janitor replied before the transmission ended.

"See what I'm talking about? There are still people left alive for you to help. If you come with me, you can do it," Chuck said rising back to his feet.

The officer looked at him quietly before slowly nodding his head and rising to his feet.

"You're right. Maybe I can still help out. If I'm still alive I can get some revenge on these rotting bastards, pay them back for killing my friends," the man said scooping up his submachine gun, "Count me in."

"Glad to have you aboard," Chuck nodded to the officer readying his own shotgun.

"Kristiansen, Officer Martin Kristiansen," the armored man answered.

"Good. Now come on. We've got work to do," Chuck said making his way back into the narrow hall and firing a blast into the crowd of zombies surrounding the record store's back door. It took three more blasts before the horde was thinned out and he approached the door, only to be cut off by a sudden grating rant from within.

"Thought you could go around sleeping with my Clancy behind my back, didn't you? You filthy whore!" the high-pitched voice shouted, followed by the sound of someone being slapped and then a woman's screams.

Chuck readied his submachine gun and quietly opened the door, ducking down behind a display shelf with the officer following suit. They crept along until they neared the front and they could see the store's shutter had been lowered with a swarm of zombies tugging away outside, trying to get in at the three fresh corpses lying before the entrance.

"What on Earth?" the former champ whispered catching a better glimpse at the bodies to see all of their throats slit from ear to ear and the corners of their mouths carved into exaggerated smiley faces, like something straight out of a horror movie.

"No...please don't!" the unseen woman cried out, "What did I ever do to you?"

"What did you do to me? What did you do to me? I'll tell you what you did to me you little tramp!" the man cried out and it was then Chuck crept around and finally caught a good glimpse of what was going on, finding himself sick to his stomach.

At the front of the room stood a tall, lanky man in a blood spattered Sunday dress and disheveled woman's beehive wig with a razor blade in hand, fresh blood still dripping from the blade. He stood tall over a young woman tied to a chair, her face covered in fresh bruises.

"My Clancy...my dear, dear Clancy," the cross dresser began, his back still to Chuck, "We've been married for 27 years. Such a wonderful husband he is. Oh my dear Clancy...how you've started coming in late at night, stumbling in like a drunken louse! My perfect Clancy...the stupid, drunken, two-timing, lazy worthless unfit father!"

It was then the deranged man wheeled around the woman on a pair of roller skates and grabbed her by the throat and shouting into her ear, "You tried to ruin our perfect family, you filthy whore! And for what? So you could have some pea-sized dick?!"

_"Damn. I've seen some messed up shit in my life, but this takes the cake,"_ Chuck thought to himself as he saw the man's face, covered in a piss poor makeup job that left both his bloodshot eyes looking blackened and his face even more wrinkled than it probably really was. Worse, he looked like the same circus clowns he had feared since childhood. Even crazier, the corners of his mouth had been carved into, giving him the same exaggerated grin as the bodies near the entrance.

"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about!" the woman cried, only to receive a backhanded slap.

"Lying, filthy whore!" the schizophrenic man screamed, "You ruined everything we had!"

The man then delivered another backhand to the helpless woman, who again could only cry out at the physical abuse, suddenly silenced as the blade was placed to her throat.

"Well now I'm gonna do to you exactly what he did to me," the man whispered, speaking from the perspective of the victim he dressed up as, "I'm gonna slice you up just like he did to me in the basement that stormy night!" he shouted, followed by a hysterical laughter that echoed throughout the plaza.

Chuck had seen enough and rose with his submachine gun raised.

"Well, oh my goodness!" the cross dressing man said taking notice of their new 'visitor,' "Well look what the whore dragged in! Are you some other random slut that's been sleeping with my Clancy behind my back?"

"Let her go!" Chuck demanded, only to be met by harsh laughter.

"So it is true, you whores all look out for one another! Well I'm gonna show you what happens when you try to break up the Vincents' marriage!" the man shouted brandishing his switchblade, "Kids, go up to bed! Your good-for-nothing father is home!"

A rattle of gunfire came from behind as Martin popped out and fired a barrage from his submachine gun at the deranged cross dresser, who rolled out of the way and performed a rolling flip over the front counter, emerging a second later with a bow that had an arrow strapped with dynamite attached.

"Oh shit," Chuck blurted out, rolling out of the way as the arrow flew past him only to explode a second later and send him flying hard onto his stomach in front of the imprisoned woman.

"Kids, go back to bed! Daddy and I are having an important discussion!" the crazy man called out before firing another arrow at Martin, the explosive bolt embedding in the wall behind him and sending him flying forth, scorching his riot armor.

Chuck felt the fresh waves of pain traveling through his body as he pushed himself back to his hands and knees, nearly bumping the tied up woman. He looked up and saw the fear in her dark eyes, both wide as saucers. He nodded silently in an effort to comfort her, assuring her that things will be alright.

Reaching to reclaim his submachine gun, the former champ found himself feeling only to thin layer of carpeting and cursed silently to himself. The rattle of gunfire and the explosions of the rigged arrows came from behind and he knew he needed to help his companion fast.

Hiding behind a rack lined with CDs he would have no other choice and scooped up a handful discs, popping out and tossing them at the deranged cross dresser like they were Frisbees, striking him more than once.

"I swear Clancy! If you hit me one more time I'm gonna take the kids and go to my mother's!" the madman shouted loading another explosive arrow and taking aim upon the former motocross champion, the woman likely to be caught within the blast radius if he didn't do something fast.

Luckily his submachine gun was nearby and he quickly scooped it up, taking aim and firing a volley at the drag queen that caused him to drop his arrow, which then exploded in his face and sent him flying backwards against the front counter.

"Gah! What did I ever do to you? I love you Clancy!" the drag queen bellowed in pain before suddenly charging at Chuck on his roller skates, the bloodied razor blade raised high into the air.

Chuck barely dodged a swipe from the madman and went for his Defiler, but it clattered to the floor and he took a swipe across the face for his troubles.

"That whore can't save you now!" Clancy shouted in his face as he went for another swipe, only to be cut off by another blast from Martin's submachine gun. The blast left the madman crying out in pain, giving Chuck the room to leap in the air and give him a drop kick that sent him flying over a CD rack.

"Don't think for one second this is over you drunken lout!" Clancy shouted, attempting to tackle Chuck with his razor blade held above his head. "The house! The car! The kids! I'm taking it all!"

The drag queen moved at him with lightning speed, aided in part by his roller skates, and the former champ was doing everything he could to dodge his swipes, but the man was quickly closing in on him and he needed to think fast.

Then he remembered that combo weapon he crafted from the cement saw and saw blade, a 'Ripper' as he called it.

Barrel rolling to his right Chuck reached for the Ripper and revved it up before delivering a few practice swings at the empty air before him. Unfortunately for his assailant, the man was too mentally disturbed to know the peril that would have awaited him and lunged for another attack, only to eat a high velocity blade for his troubles.

The drag queen let out a feminine wail, "I mean it Clancy! I'm not fooling around!"

Chuck was really getting tired of this guy's scratchy voice that reminded him of nails on a chalkboard and he went to bisect his opponent, but again the man's roller skates enabled him to get out of the way, but not before the former champ managed to inflict a deep rend upon his lower back, one which left the psychopathic man wailing in agony.

"No Clancy! Think of the kids! Think of the kids!" the demented cross dresser shouted as he stumbled towards the store's front gate, where the mob of zombies was growing rapidly in number with every passing second, all of them wanting to get inside at the fresh morsels. "I only ever wanted what was best for you, for us! It's the drink Clancy, think about what you're doing! Please!"

With every word Clancy Vincent inched closer to the gate, his hand outstretched towards the button that would raise it. Chuck wanted to scream at him to not do it, but the cross dresser was visibly off his rocker and would not have listened. He could only watch silently as the man fell against the button and with a tired groan, it began to rise. Having been deprived their meal for so long the zombies eagerly swarmed inside and enveloped the deranged man, who offered no resistance as they tore into him.

"Shit," Chuck muttered to himself.

He needed to get out of there fast, but he couldn't leave the woman alone and he quickly ran over and used one of the blades from his claw gloves to saw through the ropes binding her wrists behind her.

"Wha...no!" the dazed woman weakly groaned.

"Relax, I'm here to get you out of here," Chuck said lifting the woman into his arms and running over to Martin.

"Here, take her!" he said offering the young woman to the S.W.A.T. officer, who gladly accepted as Chuck scooped up the duffel bag full of guns and made a beeline for the backdoor. Hearing the moans of zombies in the distance he quickly withdrew his own shotgun and took point, squeezing the trigger and unloading a spray of buckshot into the nearest duo of walking corpses before leaping into the air and delivering a flying kick to the face of a gangly woman.

"Go!" he shouted to Martin and the officer ran past him as he grabbed another zombie and smashed the undead man's head into the nearest wall, splitting it open like a watermelon.

The red-eyed zombies were alerted by the racket and were rapidly descending upon the opening where Chuck stood. He looked ahead to see Martin dashing past the fountain and reaching the entrance, where he came to a sudden halt.

"Chuck!" he shouted, "Chuck! Come on!"

The former motocross champ remembered he still had one of his crudely crafted I.E.D.'s on him and tossed it to the ground before a large mass of oncoming zombies. Pumping his shotgun he fired a blast that struck the propane tank head on, resulting in another massive explosion that swallowed the nearest zombies whole and sent burning nails sticking into the heads and bodies of nearby stragglers.

"I'm coming," he called back to the officer, swinging his shotgun's stock into the fair of another zombie and blasting three more to kingdom come before reaching his companions.

The trio stepped outside into the nighttime air, rife with the stench of death and the ragged gasps of the zombies all around them, most of whom could hear the sound of the glass doors slamming shut and turned their attention towards the North Plaza entrance.

But the zombies would soon be the least of Chuck Greene's worries when he heard the revving of an engine, followed by gangsta rap music...

...and then the hyena-like laughter.

XXXXX

"Quick, get that fat broad over there!" Sam Franklin shouted slamming on the Humvee's gas pedal, the powerful vehicle lurching violently forward.

"Hey, easy there man!" Reginald Jenkins called from the back, nearly losing his grip on the heavy machine gun when he was pulled forward by the centrifugal force.

"Oh quit being a bitch," Miguel Sanchez shouted back from the passenger seat as they raced towards his latest target, delivering a powerful swing to the infected woman's rotting skull with a sickening_ 'thuk,' _and prompting a hysterical laughter from Sam next to him.

"Damn, you oughta' try out for the Aspens...until it's my turn that is!" the insane driver cackled.

"In your dreams, junior," the Mexican-American convict shouted back.

Willamette, Colorado had descended into pure, unadulterated mayhem and the three convicts wasted no time in joining the party upon escaping from their prison transport.

It wasn't long before they happened across a group of soldiers being overwhelmed by those sick-looking people and jacked their wheels, laughing at the final soldier's misfortune as he was devoured whole by the frenzied mob.

Freedom was all too sweet for the homicidal trio, who had spent much of the day looting, raping and murdering, now in the process of making a game out of their killing spree, hoping for some kind of challenge.

So far all of those sick people were barely putting up any kind of fight and most of the living people were either dead or hidden away somewhere, the trio having gone over an hour without tasting the blood of a fresh soul.

For some reason all these sick people had been drawn to the Willamette Parkview Mall and they made their way there hoping for some break in the usual monotony these sick people delivered.

"Hey, look over there!" Miguel pointed with his bat.

"Jackpot," Sam laughed slamming his fist down on the horn.

XXXXX

Chuck was rattled from his thoughts by the honking of a horn and he looked up just in time to see a Humvee speeding towards him occupied by three men clad in orange prison jumpsuits, barely noticing the baseball bat directed at his skull. Throwing himself to the grass he barely dodged the swing, the wind ruffling his hair.

With a grunt the former motocross champ quickly pushed himself into a seated position, listening to the hysterical laughter coming from behind him.

"You missed, loser!" the thug manning the heavy machine gun shouted followed by another bit of laughter.

"Get your aim right, brother!" the driver whooped next to his passenger before patting the man on the back and pointing towards a nearby couple that came staggering into view.

"Alright! Looks like we found our next contestants!" the bat-wielding thug announced in his thick Spanish accent.

"I'm gonna take out the dude and snatch his old lady!" the driver shouted as his companions laughed maniacally in the background, "Here we go!" he said shifting the Humvee into drive.

"No!" Chuck shouted rising to his feet as the Humvee sped away from him.

He was too late and could only watch in horror as the convicts sped towards the frightened couple, the driver beeping the horn all the way up until his passenger's bat struck the man's skull with a sickening _'thuk.'_

"No, dammit no!" Chuck shouted as he watched the woman collapse into a sobbing wreck over her fallen lover as the Humvee came to a screeching halt and the driver shifted into reverse, speeding recklessly towards the woman's direction and forcing her to flee further into the zombie-infested park.

Chuck looked over to Martin and the woman, who had by now regained consciousness and was back on her feet.

"Get her out of here. I'm gonna go save that woman!" he shouted to the officer.

"I'm not leaving you behind!" Martin replied raising his submachine gun and preparing to fire as the Humvee drew closer.

"Just go!" Chuck shouted before the Humvee nearly ran over the duo and the gunner opened fire, Martin and the woman thankfully getting out of the way before either one of them could be harmed and making a beeline for Paradise Plaza.

"Over here, assholes!" the biker shouted drawing his shotgun and firing a blast into the army vehicle's reinforced surface, dodging to the side as the gunner now fired upon him.

He squinted through the wall of staggering zombies in the distance and could see the woman running towards the small pond, still visibly scared out of her mind. He needed to get to her fast and pushed himself back to his feet running after her.

"I'm gonna kill you!" he heard one of the convicts shout and listened to the Humvee speeding up behind him.

_"Perfect time to play the hero Chuck. You've got a whole bunch of zombies still running around, three psycho convicts on your tail in a Humvee with a freaking machine gun and you can barely see shit in front of you," _he thought to himself before he was forced to dodge an attempted swipe from a nearby zombie, who would later find a gaping crater in its chest as the gunner again fired upon him. _"Your luck's gonna run out sooner or later."_

"Whoo hoo!" he heard the driver whoop as the Humvee drew dangerously closer to him and he could sense the passenger preparing for another swing with his trusty bat. Chuck kept running until he could feel the heat of the engine on his hind end and barrel rolled to the side, the escaped prisoner's bat connecting with the skull of another zombie.

"Damn bro, you could barely hit the broad side of a barn!" the driver taunted his companion just before crashing into a tree, buying Chuck invaluable time to get to the woman.

"Help! Someone help me!" the young woman shouted foolishly rushing into the waist deep water, a few zombies wading nearby and making their way after her.

"Over here! Come here!" Chuck shouted to the frightened woman, drawing his Defiler and cutting down a zombie that had gotten precariously close to her.

"Come with me. I know a safe place where you can hide from these bastards!" Chuck shouted over the strangled roars of nearby zombies, again cut off by the honking horn.

_"No! They're really this crazy?" _he asked himself looking over to see the Humvee charging towards the pond and driving on in, running over a few zombies before the driver managed to right himself and resume his pursuit, laughing like a hyena all the way.

"Come on," Chuck said grabbing the woman by the hand and leading her out of the water, the duo then running along a paved trail while dodging the lunging strikes of ravenous zombies along the way. Fortunately they weren't far from the Paradise Plaza entrance where he could see Martin and the other rescued lady waiting for them inside.

Then he heard the hysterical laughter of the criminals coming from behind them, followed by the thuds of them plowing their way through any zombies unfortunate enough to cross their path.

"Goin' down!" he heard the driver shout.

_"C'mon Chuck, think fast,"_ he told himself and saw a lamppost in front of him. Without warning he grabbed the woman around the waist and leaped to the side, rewarded with a loud crash as the Humvee struck the lamppost head on, temporarily stunning the three convicts.

He looked over to see the passenger slumped over with the baseball bat lying on the ground next to him. Running over he quickly snatched the slugger up and swung it three times into the Mexican man's skull, rewarded with a sickening crack and then brain matter covering the wooden surface.

"Son of a bitch," the gunner shouted taking aim for Chuck and unleashing a stream of high velocity rounds in his direction, forcing the chivalrous former champ back to the woman and once again grabbing her by the hand.

"Kill 'em all!" he heard the driver shouted, the blood lust more prevalent now that one of his buddies had just been killed, eventually taking a sharp left turn and giving his gunner room to fire another torrent of screaming lead upon his prey.

Chuck cursed silently with every shot fired upon him, flecks of gravel and dirt smacking against him with the force of tiny daggers as the ground was torn apart behind them. Yet the adrenaline coursed through his system at a manic pace and it was through this natural enhancement he was able to safely lead the young woman out of harm's way.

Unfortunately for the surviving convicts, their driver's mania got the better of him as he whipped the heavy vehicle around recklessly, careening sharply to the left and slamming into another lamppost and temporarily dazing him.

Chuck saw another opportunity and leaped onto the back of the Humvee, sneaking up on the stunned gunner and wrapping his arms around the man's neck in a tight stranglehold and after a bit of struggling, snapped his neck with an audible crack.

"You son of a bitch!" the driver shouted, shifting the Humvee into reverse and forcing Chuck to grip onto the machine gun's handles. "You're going down loser!"

The driver jerked the steering wheel to the left and right, violently rocking the small surface and it was only a matter of time before Chuck was thrown back to the earth.

"Damn it!" he grunted, another fresh wave of pain shooting through his body as he struggled back to his feet, only to find himself blinded a second later by the Humvee's headlights.

"Just you and me now Blondie!" the lone convict cackled madly, "You're gonna be sorry you iced my boys!"

Unknown to the distracted driver, another infected Willamette resident was onto his scent and quickly grabbed him from behind.

"Hey! Get off me!" he shouted while punching at the zombie, unwittingly stomping the gas pedal and sending the Humvee flying forward. Chuck managed to safely get out of the way and the stolen military vehicle was sent crashing head on into the Paradise Plaza building.

Chuck grimaced at the racket created by the loud collision, opening his eyes a second later to find the zombie splattered against the wall and the driver struggling to get the Humvee back into gear. Enough was enough and he picked up his shotgun.

"C'mon dammit! C'mon!" Sam Franklin grunted as he struggled to shift the Humvee into reverse, only to stop when he felt another presence sneaking up behind him and he turned to find the barrel of a shotgun shoved in his face.

"Game over" Chuck darkly spoke before obliterating the man's face in a spray of buckshot.

"Bastards," he grumbled to himself just as the transceiver began ringing again. With a deep grunt he picked it up, "Hello?"

_"The Space Rider machine in Wonderland Plaza looks like it's outta control. Maybe there's somebody out there. You wanna check it out?" _Otis asked.

"Sure thing Otis, but first I've got some people needing to be dropped off," Chuck replied before putting the transceiver away.

The threat dealt with he turned to see the woman staring off in the distance and he ran over to take her by the hand, "C'mon, it's not safe here."

"I can't believe those maniacs kill him. I never got the chance to tell him how I feel," the woman woefully muttered.

Chuck nodded in acknowledgment to the grieving woman, "I'm deeply sorry for your loss."

"Thank you mister. I really appreciate it," the woman nodded back to him.

"You can call me Chuck," he replied.

"Sophie," was all the woman offered as he led her back inside.

XXXXX

After reconnecting with Martin and the woman the quartet made their way back to the warehouse and then following the usual elevator ride and climb through the cramped vents were safely gathered in the vent room.

"Thank you so much mister. I really thought that freak was going to kill me back there," the woman spoke before wrapping her arms around him.

"It was all my pleasure," Chuck replied before turning his attention to the surviving officer.

"I can't believe I almost did the unthinkable back there," Martin said looking away in shame, "but seriously, thank you. I will do what I can to protect these people. I will not fail you."

"Glad to hear, Officer," Chuck said shaking the man's hand and watching as the trio disappeared into the back.

"Time to find out what the hell's going on," he said to Otis before making his way back to the vent.

XXXXX

Author's Note: And so concludes what has thus far been the longest installment of "Case Greene!" Took me a while, but I managed to get it done so yay me!

The scene where Chuck references 'Bryce Hammill' is supposed to be a spoof of Bruce Campbell from the "Evil Dead" series and I figured it would only be appropriate given we get to see Chuck cut up a bunch of zombies with a chainsaw.

Martin Kristiansen is an original survivor I decided to add when I thought of the riot gear Chuck can wear in DR2. He might not be the last so stay tuned for more!

Clancy Vincent is also an original character who was inspired by the Smileys gang from "Mahunt," more specifically those weirdos who ran around dressed in drag. I had thought of putting Frank in drag to make him seem more psychotic, but I figured "Aw fuck it" and decided to throw a new guy in.

The woman Chuck rescues in CD Crazy is supposed to be Chrystal Kennedy, one of the survivors who survives the initial onslaught and makes it safely to the Fortune City safe house along with Chuck, Katey and like 4 other survivors in addition to them. Her character model was also used as one of Seymour Redding's victims in the 'WWJWD' mission.

I also thought it sucked in the game how the convicts die without an ending sequence so that's what I did with Sam before Chuck finished him off. I also want to give a special thanks to whoever it was that posted their boss battle clip from "Chop 'Til You Drop" on YouTube, which was definitely instrumental in helping with this fight sequence.

For survivors rescued in this chapter:

**Martin Kristiansen, 33**

**Chrystal Kennedy, 22**

**Sophie Richards, 25**

Well I think that's it for now so as always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	9. No More Clowning Around

Chapter 9: No More Clowning Around

It had taken some time due to the zombies' enhanced nighttime aggression, but after a quick stop by the totaled Humvee to grab its heavy machine gun Chuck was now arriving at the food court entrance, the ground behind him carpeted by the shredded remnants of what had once been a ravenous horde.

Using the massive gun to push his way through the glass doors he spotted a few zombies shambling about to his left, yet they were far enough away to avoid another confrontation and he made his way for the Wonderland Plaza entrance.

Entering the massive space he looked up and true to Otis' word, the Space Racer was zooming around above him at dangerous speeds. He grimaced as he listened to the rattle of the roller coaster's track and knew he had to do something fast or else the car was going to go flying off and crash into who knows where.

Yet as it always was, there was an entire mass of zombies staggering about before the play area that granted access to the coaster's platform. With their newly-enhanced senses they were able to hear the clinking of Chuck lugging the heavy gun about and shifted their focus on him.

With a roar that would have made Don Blambo blush, the former motocross champion leveled the mighty gun and opened fire upon the advancing mob, quickly reducing the bloodthirsty legion to another pile of mangled flesh and bone, a few crippled survivors still clawing away stubbornly at the air above them. They were in no position to be of any further threat and Chuck just ran past them and back into the play area where all the madness began.

Again he could hear the loud clatter as the Space Racer zoomed above him, getting closer to flying off the track with every new rotation it took. He needed to get the ride stopped and fast. He quickly ascended the stairs as fast as his feet would take him and came to the control panel.

"Alright, let's see what we can do here," Chuck said to himself as he scanned the multitude of buttons and switches covering the surface.

By the time he noticed the large slot in the center he was cut off by a bone-jarring laughter that left the former champion nearly shitting his pants.

"Stay away from there, Gramps!" called a falsetto voice, followed by the revving of multiple chainsaws.

There were no words uttered as Chuck whirled around to face the same red-haired clown who had earlier in the day been entertaining children, now marching towards him while juggling two chainsaws in a show of amazing dexterity before gracefully catching them and letting out one final grating cackle before collapsing to a knee.

"Everyone used to laugh at me..." Bebop the Clown giggled rising back to his feet, "I was a walking punchline," he said taking a few steps towards the unnerved ex-racer.

"But not anymore," he continued, shaking his head as his tone adopted a more somber tone, yet still maintaining the creepily cartoonish quality that left Chuck's heart racing.

"When the zombies came, everyone died!" the clown spoke in his mock doleful tone as he inched towards Chuck, finally stopping as he was almost forcing him onto the coaster's track.

_"Oh god, why you of all people?" _Chuck asked himself as the clown giggled dementedly, which would again turn into his trademark maniacal laugh.

"Get away from me!" Chuck demanded as the clown's hysterical laughter grew in volume, inching backwards until he felt the cool metal guard railing in his grasp.

The clown ignored his plea and revved his chainsaws, beginning to juggle them once again as he spoke.

"That's why I decided to give all the happy people a lift fun on this ride!"

Chuck could hear the loud metallic clatter as the coaster car fast approached the boarding platform and he turned to face it, grunting in a mixture of terror and confusion.

The car sped through the boarding station and inside Chuck saw two child-sized happy-faced dolls seated, both of them drenched in fresh blood.

"I won't let you stop the ride, Gramps! If the ride stops, then the zombies come back, and that won't be any fun at all!" Bebop concluded, still juggling his chainsaws before letting out one final demented whooping laugh.

"Goddamn, I've gotta get away from this fruitcake!" Chuck said hoping he could leap over to the opposite platform, only to find himself brought to a halt by another strident laugh.

Waiting for him on the other side was Bebop's blue-haired brother, towering over him on his eponymous stilts.

"How about a little ice cream?" he asked pulling out a futuristic-looking toy gun.

His heart was hammering and he needed to think fast. Faced with a chainsaw-wielding maniac and one end and another armed with God knows what, he needed to think fast.

It was then he heard the loud clatter coming from behind him and again saw the Space Racer heading his way.

"Fuck it," he muttered and leaped into the front seat, quickly swatting the bloodied dolls away.

"H-Help me!" a voice cried from behind him.

Chuck looked over his shoulder to find a dark-haired man wearing the blue jacket of a Willamette Patrol employee in the seat behind him. He had been so caught up in his fear of the clowns only now did he take notice of the man.

"Please! You've gotta stop them! They're insane! They put me here," the man pleaded, his badge identifying him as _'Greg Simpson.'_

Chuck did not reply and only focused on hanging on as the cart rocketed along the track. They drew closer to the boarding platform and he saw both the clowns had vanished. The thought of getting off and possibly facing them again terrified the former racer, his memory again flashing back to that carnival fun house from all those years ago, the laughter from all those clowns still echoing through his mind.

"Please, man! You gotta help me! This cart's gonna fly off the track! We're gonna die if that happens!" Greg pleaded.

He was right. Something needed to be done about these maniacs.

_"C'mon Chuck, you can't let your fears rule you for the rest of your life. You would think a bunch of flesh-eating zombies would show you there are worse things in the world than some yahoo running around covered in greasepaint with a big stupid red nose," _he told himself.

The time had come. It was time for Chuck Greene to confront his fear of clowns.

They were drawing closer to the boarding platform and the former champion slowly pushed himself back to his feet and perched himself on the narrow edge.

"Don't worry. I'll be back for you. I'm gonna show them there's no more clowning around. Not on my watch," Chuck replied and with a loud 'oomph' leaped from the cart and landed roughly on the metal platform.

He was immediately met by Bebop the Clown's strident laughter, the demented entertainer charging towards him with both chainsaws buzzing at his sides. He threw his arms into the air and attempted to bring them down onto the former motocross champ, but Chuck quickly rolled out of the way and ran down the flight of stairs to create some distance between himself and the painted menace.

The red-haired clown only laughed and began blowing a large red balloon, waiting until it was the size of a small boulder before kicking it towards his opponent.

"Okay, that can't be good," Chuck whispered to himself as he watched the large balloon slowly bouncing towards him, sidestepping it as it sprang past him and into the face of a zombie. The elastic projectile popped loudly and an irritant gas exploded into the face of the walking corpse, yet it had no effect due to the former resident's undead state. He could only tell what would happen if that was exposed to a still living human and he wasn't ready to find out.

The revving of chainsaws came from behind and Chuck turned to find Bebop rolling towards him and again swiping his saws forth. He was dangerously close and the former champ raised his handgun firing off a few shots, all of which were deflected when the clown crossed his saws in front of him.

"Here we go!" the madman shouted and began spinning himself around with his saws extended, cutting down a few zombies shambling about outside the Run Like the Wind shoe store. Fortunately Chuck was far enough away and he waited until the insane clown became too dizzy to continue, pulling out his Defiler and charging the man to knock him backwards.

In spite of the massive blow, the clown was quick to recover and he giggled dementedly before exhaling a gust of flames that Chuck was barely able to avoid.

There would be no time to capitalize as the loud clopping of wood against marble came from behind and Chuck turned to find himself faced with Bebop's brother towering over him, firing a cluster of snowball-like projectiles his way that sent him running for cover and barely dodging a swipe from the elder brother's chainsaws.

"Freezer pops! Come and get 'em!" Stilts shouted firing a burst into the air and sending multiple freezing projectiles landing on the floor at once, creating a slippery surface that sent Chuck colliding with a zombified police officer and landing flat on his ass. There were more zombies nearby staggering towards him and he needed somewhere he could catch a breather.

The Sir Book-a-Lot book store was nearby and Chuck pushed himself through the entrance, taking cover behind a bookcase and catching his breath.

"Dammit. It just _had_ to be clowns," the former motocross champion grunted to himself, quickly shutting up when he heard the moans of an approaching zombie. He listened intently for the shambling footsteps and was ready to pounce as they drew nearer. He wasted no time as the lone ghoul staggered past him and performed a foot sweep that took the intruder from his feet, following up with a field goal kick that sent its head flying from its shoulders.

He could hear the crazy cackling of the two brothers in the distance and knew his time for relaxation was up. He looked over and saw some snacks, a baguette and a large soda lying on the floor nearby, wondering if some other unfortunate souls had attempted to take cover here in all the ensuing madness. Whatever the case was, they were no longer around to enjoy the food and he quickly scooped it up, knowing it would be needed to replenish his lost health.

Chuck's timing turned out to not be so impeccable as he made his way out to be met by the ice cream-obsessed clown.

"I know what you want, little boy!" Stilts harshly laughed in his high-pitched timbre, firing another blast from his snowball cannon that Chuck again barely avoided, freezing a zombie solid in his place. He took cover behind the frozen ghoul, who would explode into bloody chunks a second later as the blue-haired clown's stilt connected in an effort to kick his target down.

"Not tonight!" Chuck shouted running down the stairs and rolling down to the first floor in an effort to create more distance between himself and the madman.

He could have sworn the brother's shared some kind of psychic fraternal link because as soon as he reached the bottom floor, Bebop was there to meet him, rolling towards him like a bowling ball. He barely dodged another downward swipe of the clown's saws and was forced to flee as he again spun himself around with his chainsaws extended, cutting down more zombies in his path as he attempted to slice up the former champ.

"Gonna take more than that," Chuck muttered running away from the madman, only to bump head on into an oncoming zombie. He knocked the undead citizen to the floor, but the blow had stunned him and another zombie was there to grasp his shoulders.

"Get away!" he shouted into the monster's face while struggling to pull himself away. With another mighty grunt he finally managed to bring his foot up and execute a standing kick that knocked the zombie away from him.

It would be that distraction that would screw Chuck over in the end as an oversized balloon exploded in his face, the irritant gas inside causing him to cough violently.

As the air drained from his lungs Chuck would feel a sudden chill throughout his body when he looked down to see his legs cemented to the ground by solid ice. The remnants of a liquid nitrogen canister rested at his feet and he looked above to see Stilts the Clown cackling madly.

"Aww, it looks like our new friend is feeling a little chilly under the collar. Maybe this should warm you up!" Bebop laughed before blowing a gust of flame in Chuck's direction.

The fire rapidly melted the ice, yet left the former champion ablaze and he ran about flailing his arms wildly for several seconds until they finally dissipated, yet left him in pain all over.

"Shit..." he muttered, trying to find any safe place he could to regain some lost energy.

Ducking down behind a cosmetics kiosk he pulled out the baguette and scarfed it down before readying his shotgun.

"Oh where could our dear friend have run off to?" he heard Bebop asking in mock sadness, his chainsaws revving in anticipation. "Where oh where could you have run off to, Gramps?"

"Right here Bozo," Chuck shouted jumping out and firing a blast the clown barely had time to deflect, a few fragments of buckshot shredding through his garish outfit. After a brief 'ooh' the madman was back to cackling madly and began chucking hunting knives in his direction.

The clopping of wood was heard and Chuck looked to find the other clown brother chasing after him before again firing his snowball cannon into the air, its projectiles raining down and freezing the ground, causing a few nearby zombies to slip and slide about.

Chuck tried to run on the slippery surface, yet found himself again nearly falling flat on his ass.

"Now what flavor would you like young man?" the clown asked before kicking his stilt upward and sending Chuck flying backwards.

Chuck struggled back to his feet only to find Bebop blowing another one of his large balloons and sending it bouncing his way. At the same time there was a once carefree young woman shambling towards him with fresh entrails dripping from her opened mouth, her bony fingers just inches away from him.

Doing something he definitely would not have done to her had she still been alive, Chuck shoved the zombified woman into the balloon's way. The gas had no effect on her, but she had created more needed space between himself and the stilt-wearing clown as the blue-haired freak chased after him.

"Snow cones! Get your snow cones!" he barked as he would to regular customers, his mania leaving him oblivious to their perilous surroundings as he reached for another liquid nitrogen filled bomb and chucked it at the fleeing survivor, only succeeding in striking another zombie that had hobbled into its way.

Chuck made his way into the play park and waited for Stilts to draw closer and kicked one of the toy cubes at him like it were a soccer ball. The blow stunned the blue-haired clown and with that opening he scooped up a nearby gumball machine and tossed it at his pursuer knocking the man to the ground with a loud crash, spilling the gumballs inside onto the floor and causing a few zombies to slip and fall.

"Peek-a-boo!" a familiar voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard called out and Chuck turned to see Bebop again rolling towards him like a bowling ball before he leaped up and attempted to bring his twin chainsaws down onto his intended quarry.

Chuck again rolled out of the way to avoid him and sought higher ground atop the large soccer ball before kicking another toy cube his way. Surprisingly he found another submachine gun atop the yellow colored toy brick house and quickly scooped it up.

He looked over to see Bebop in the process of inflating another balloon and an idea came to mind. Taking careful aim he fired and popped the balloon in the clown's face, causing him to fall victim to his own irritant gas. With his opponent left a hacking mess Chuck fired another barrage into the madman before running up and delivering a drop kick that again knocked him from his feet, careful to move out of the way before the man could rise and blow another gust of fire his way.

"Time to send you outta the park," Chuck said readying the Defiler and raising it high above his head to deliver a killing strike to the psychotic clown, only to find himself knocked forward again.

"Get 'em while they're cold!" Stilts' voice called out from behind before letting out a strident laugh rivaling that of his older brother before again clicking his cannon and firing a blast directed at the blond-haired man, who grimaced as he was struck by a snowball that dramatically slowed his movements.

"Dammit," Chuck grunted as he struggled to keep himself moving, fighting against his own frozen muscles as he tried to run away and dodge more nearby zombies roaming about.

"Where are you going young man? You still have yet to try my latest flavor," Stilts called out reaching for another nitrogen-filled canister clipped to his belt.

Chuck kept running until he came across a utility cart with a push broom inside and he scooped up the broom, tossing it at the blue-haired menace and getting it caught between his stilts.

Stilts the Clown wobbled wildly while struggling to maintain his balance and aim his cannon simultaneously. With the cart nearby Chuck wasted no time and shoved it into the ice cream salesman, sending him crashing to the floor with a violent thud and breaking off his stilts along with the lifts concealed beneath his pant legs that made him look taller than he really was.

"Man, that guy had a short fuse," Chuck quipped regarding the man's dwarf stature.

He turned to find Bebop again rolling towards him and again readied the Defiler.

Drawing the mighty combo weapon back he brought it forward with a powerful swing that caught the crazy clown in the middle of his back and sent him flailing backwards. What would follow was a particularly gruesome and disturbing spectacle.

The clown fell backwards onto his own chainsaws as they remained running. He convulsed violently as they ripped his stomach apart spilling gallons of blood in a massive pool forming around his body.

All the while he laughed maniacally, enjoying the torture inflicted upon him.

The mad laughter echoed throughout the plaza and it became too much for Chuck, who could only look away and clamp his hands over his ears in an effort to shut everything out. It was a futile effort and his ears began to ring from a deafening racket that seemed to go on for hours.

The laughter stirred Evan MacIntyre (Stilts the Clown as he was known professionally) from his slumber and he pushed himself into a sitting position just in time to witness his older brother's gruesome demise.

"Adam..." he gasped rising to his feet and pounding his chest as he rose back to his feet and ran after the blond-haired man as fast as his stubby legs would take him, letting out a ferocious battle cry as he charged the man.

Eventually the mad clown's laughter slowly died down and Chuck cautiously lowered his hands, only to hear a loud battle cry coming from behind and he turned to see the blue-haired clown charging after him, barely rolling out of the way just in time.

"You're going to try all my flavors!" the diminutive madman roared before making another charge.

The dwarf bolted towards him with a speed he had not expected, huffing and puffing the entire way before he leaped high into the air and mounted his chest.

"You think this is funny?" the madman asked as he pummeled away at Chuck's face.

"Get...off...of me...you...little...turd!" Chuck grunted between blows before grabbing the dwarf and kicking him away like a soccer ball.

Undeterred, the blue-haired dwarf was quickly back to his feet and charging head on towards the ex-racer, tackling him with the fake ice cream cone atop his head extended and again knocking Chuck from his feet.

"Now _you're_ the walking punchline," Evan quipped dancing around while Chuck staggered back to his feet.

"I'm not outta the fight just yet, squirt," Chuck retorted cracking his neck back into place.

Evan only responded with another roar and began his next charge, but Chuck was prepared and rolled out of the way. Still having the claw gloves in his possession he quickly slipped them on and waited for the clown to recover before taking a swipe that knocked his enemy backwards and then leaping into the air to execute an elbow drop that knocked the wind out of the diminutive fellow before again kicking him away like a soccer ball.

The ice cream salesman struggled back to his feet following the brutal beat down, yet was determined to remain in the fight.

"I'm gonna cut you down to size," Evan slurred while wobbling about in his disoriented state before he collapsed against a nearby jewelry kiosk. His snowball cannon lay nearby and he picked it up and prepared to take aim, only to find it empty.

His options were not yet exhausted as he remembered one freeze canister was still clipped to his belt and he pulled it from its holster while trying to pull himself back to his feet.

Unfortunately he was still far too disoriented and the canister jumped from his hand and landed at his feet.

Chuck could only watch as the canister exploded and the bantam salesman was coated in the cooling liquid, yet he still staggered towards him as his body was rapidly freezing.

"You...scream..." he slurred, "I...scream..." he said taking a few steps with what little energy he had left, "We all...scream for...ice cream..." he barely finished just as his body was frozen solid.

Chuck walked over to the now frozen clown and brought his foot up to knock him over, his body shattering into pieces.

"Heh, that guy kinda' cracked me up," Chuck quipped walking away.

He had done it. He had faced his fear of clowns and had emerged victorious.

Again it really forced him to take into perspective how such a childish fear was miniscule when compared to the very real possibility of a bunch of zombies wanting to rip him apart limb by limb.

Nevertheless he was left feeling he had truly crossed the bridge and there was no more looking back.

Now he just needed to stop the ride and he walked past Bebop's shredded corpse to find a small square-shaped object lying in the pool of blood.

A key card!

Chuck remembered seeing the slot on the ride's control panel and he ran over to scoop the card up, using a nearby discarded cloth to wipe the blood away. He quickly made his way up the stairs and slid the card through the slot and punched in a few commands before the Space Racer finally came to a halt at the boarding platform and a very much alive Greg Simpson stumbled out of the car, puking his guts out before rising to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Chuck asked helping the man back to his feet.

"I'm fine," Greg replied wiping some bile away from his lips, "Thanks! I was in some real trouble there. Are there any other survivors around?"

"There sure are. Everyone's in the security room. It's safe there," Chuck replied.

"The security room?" his head suddenly perking up, "I know a shortcut there. This way! C'mon!"

Greg ran down the stairs, only to be halted as he was approached by another horde of zombies.

"Allow me," Chuck said stepping up and swinging away with his Defiler, cutting a swath through the wall of decaying flesh. "Go!"

Greg did as ordered and ran along the mezzanine floor dodging a few more zombies lumbering about before calling out.

"Over here!" he motioned towards the stairs leading to the lower level, barely dodging a zombified football player that had attempted to tackle him.

Chuck was right behind him and quick to eliminate any stragglers that had gotten too close for comfort as they descended the stairs.

"Over there! The women's restroom!" Greg shouted as he looked for a way around more groups of zombies dangerously close together.

"Lead the way! I'll cover your six," Chuck said again raising the Defiler and lopping off the head of a nearby zombie with her head heavily bandaged.

"Right," Greg said leading the way, only to stop as a zombie grabbed onto him, "Chuck!"

"I'm on it," the ex-racer called out and grabbed the balding man from behind before he could sink his teeth into the janitor's shoulder, throwing him to the floor and delivering a field goal kick that sent his head flying.

"Over there!" Chuck motioned towards the play area.

"Are you serious?" Greg asked.

"Trust me," Chuck replied running into the enclosed area where Bebop the Clown's corpse lay, a few zombies kneeling over and beginning to feast on it.

Using his trusty Defiler he swatted the feeding zombies away and kicked the deceased entertainer's corpse aside to scoop up his mini chainsaws.

"Here," he said offering one to Greg.

"Thanks," the janitor replied starting it up and slicing through the body of a recovering zombie. Now armed he enthusiastically led the way to the restrooms and together the duo entered the ladies' room where Greg motioned towards a ceiling vent.

"Just head through here and we're already at Paradise Plaza. Nice shortcut, huh?" he asked.

"Right," Chuck said climbing onto the sink and opening the hatch.

XXXXX

It didn't take long for the duo to make their way through the hidden passage and it was only a matter of minutes before they were opening the vent leading to the Paradise Plaza womens' restroom.

"That's as far as I can take you. You're on your own from here on out," Greg spoke dusting off his gray pants.

"Whatever you say. Now come on," Chuck said exiting the restroom to find more zombies waiting for them. Pulling out the chainsaw taken from Bebop's corpse he revved it loud to catch their attention and waited for them to approach, slicing through them in another gory spectacle that painted the walls red with congealed blood.

"Follow me," Chuck shouted seeing the warehouse entrance in the distance and seeing the zombies spread far out enough to make it without much difficulty. Within seconds the duo sliced their way through a few more zombies and were arriving at the door.

"Damn, that was close," Greg gasped after the door was slammed shut behind him.

Chuck was about to respond when a groan suddenly came from up ahead. Both men froze in place and listened for the shambling footsteps that followed.

"Dammit, why here of all places?" the former champ whispered before turning to Greg, "Stay put."

Chuck crept down the hall and made his way into the open area only to find himself surrounded by zombies on all sides.

"Damn," he grunted aloud, _"How the hell did they get in here?" _he asked himself as they started taking notice and staggered towards him.

A faint buzzing from above interrupted his thoughts and Chuck barely ducked a large bee before it connected with his head.

If there was one thing else he hated aside from clowns, it was bees.

The large queen bee flew in front of him and he finally got a look at her glowing red eyes, reminding him much of the zombies. Sizing him up she dive bombed him.

"Shit!" he spat bringing his hands up and swatting the bothersome pest to the the ground and quickly stomped on it as the zombies drew closer to him.

The surrounding zombies started to break out in spasms, the convulsions growing with every stomp to the fallen queen until they were falling to their knees. Without warning their heads began to explode one by one. In the end Chuck Greene stood alone in a room full of headless corpses.

"What in the hell is going on around here?" he asked looking down to the stomped carcass.

Whatever the case was, the bee and the zombies appeared related. It was something Brad and Jessie would be interested in knowing and finding a nearby piece of paper he carefully scooped the queen's splattered remnants up and placed it in his pocket.

"Chuck, is everything safe?" Greg called out inching towards the open space, only to gasp in horror when he noticed the headless corpses littering the floor.

"Yeah, it's all safe. C'mon," Chuck replied and the duo made their way to the elevator.

XXXXX

Within minutes the duo was arriving at the safety of the security office and immediately Greg found himself overjoyed.

"Otis! You're OK! Thank god!" he triumphantly whooped.

"Good to see you too, son. Looks like our card game is gonna have to wait for the time being," the elderly janitor chuckled, also happy to see his co-worker alive and well.

"Yeah, I'll let you two catch up. I've got more pressing matters to deal with," Chuck said making his way into the monitor room where Jessie and Rebecca both sat reviewing whatever information they could.

"This chip you brought back from the Redfield substation was a lot more advanced than I expected. I'm still trying to working my way through all the security countermeasures. Someone sure doesn't want us finding something out," Jessie spoke, her fingers flying across her laptop's keyboard.

"Well I did uncover something you and Brad might be interested in," Chuck said unfolding the paper carrying the queen bee's carcass and laying it on the desk next to the D.H.S. agent.

"It's a bee. Since when did this turn into a biology class?" Rebecca asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Whatever it is, it's no ordinary bee," Chuck replied, "I stomped on this down in the warehouse and when I did, it killed a whole bunch of zombies. These two have to be related somehow."

"Bees controlling zombies? Hmm, that's something new," Rebecca said now suddenly showing an interest as she switched on her camera and filmed the splattered carcass, "Could it be that once you are stung by this particular species you become a zombie? Now I know why people hate these little buzzing bastards so much."

"We don't know yet if it could be that simple, but if we can prove some kind of connection, it would be our key to finding out the cause behind the outbreak," Jessie spoke up.

"Well I'm no scientist, but I would be inclined to agree based upon what I've seen firsthand," Chuck nodded in agreement as Otis crept in behind him to use the coffee machine.

"And the only scientist we know of isn't talking to us," Rebecca replied shutting her camera off.

"We might be stuck between a rock and a hard place, but I'm not gonna let that stop me from finding out what the hell's going on," Chuck said with the characteristic iron will that had enabled him to survive life's past challenges and the current dilemma he was caught in, especially if it meant being able to protect his daughter.

Chuck's focus turned to Otis, who stood transfixed by one of the monitors.

"What's up?" he asked.

The janitor jabbed his finger in the direction of the easternmost security monitor, "Someone's barricading the women's clothing shop in Al Fresca Plaza."

Chuck leaned closer to observe the grainy black and white footage, which showed two figures pulling a steel rack and a plywood panel in front of the store's entrance before disappearing from sight while a few zombies shambled about nearby. Weber's Garments the place was called, a name he would need to keep in mind.

"From the looks of it, two people are hidin' inside," the elderly janitor stated the obvious.

In spite of everything going on there were still survivors scattered about around the mall premises and no doubt they were tired, hungry and scared out of their minds. Chuck thought to himself that if he were stuck in their position, he too would want some big badass hero to roll in, kill all the bad guys and escort him to safety.

"Al Fresca Plaza you said," Chuck said to the janitor, "I'll see what I can do."

"Oh and Chuck, good luck," Rebecca called out, an uncharacteristic show of selflessness on her part.

"Thanks," Chuck replied as he made his way to the opened vent.

XXXXX

Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment and more soon-to-be heroism on behalf of Chuck Greene.

Don Blambo is a spoof of John Rambo.

For survivors rescued in this chapter:

**Greg Simpson, 38**

Well I think that's it until the next installment so until then read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	10. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Once again I find myself in a position caused by a lack of proper structuring and it is due to that I am forced to bring the bad news that I am discontinuing this fic effective immediately.

But there is some good news in all of this...

I am planning to reboot this story and although I honestly don't know if I will be changing much in regards to how the events have been playing out this far I am hopeful that I will be able to make things progress along more smoothly.

It is my sincere hope that those of you who have been following this fic will still be around to support the rewrite, which I hope to have the first chapter of up soon.

Rest assured **THIS STORY WILL BE BACK!**


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